


Front and Centre

by crazyrandomhappenklance (miles_from_home)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Biphobia, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bullying, Comfort/Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Drama, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hate to Love, Homophobic Language, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Karaoke, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Foster Siblings, Keith (Voltron) in Denial, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith sings in a band, Keith will be a legend, Keith will be a rock god, Keith's stage persona is a bit of an exhibitionist, Klance Rivalry, Lance (Voltron) in Denial, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is a diva, Lance will be a broadway star, M/M, Musical References, NSFW Lyrics, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Piano Bar, Pidge is a gremlin, Pidge | Katie Holt is Savage, Pidge | Katie Holt is a Good Friend, Rivals to Lovers, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexual intimidation kinda, Shiro (Voltron) Can't Cook, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Songfic, Strangers to Lovers, a character gets hurt, background Shatt, broganes, klance, mentions of attempted murder, musical intimidation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miles_from_home/pseuds/crazyrandomhappenklance
Summary: Lance was born to perform on the stage, he is destined for Broadway but there are obstacles in his path.Keith is the frontman for a local rock band that’s gaining considerable success but his troubled past has caught up with him. Time is running out and he's desperate.Despite their vastly different lives, fate pits them together in a contest that sees them love to hate each other and neither is going to back down.





	1. We Start with Stars in Our Eyes

Hunk pocketed his key, pulled out his ear buds and gave the door a gentle shove with his heel to close it behind him. As he made his way to the kitchen to relieve his arms of the heavy grocery bags he was going to call out to his roommate to see if he was in, but there was no need. If the sound of running water coming from down the hall hadn’t told him he was in, then the sudden sound of singing would have. In fact, Hunk wondered if the whole block knew that Lance was in the shower; at least it meant that he was in a good mood.

His voice carried the tune loudly and with gusto.

_“…Give ‘em an act with lots of flash in it, and the reaction will be passionate…”_

Hunk busied himself unpacking the bags as he quickly cottoned on to Lance’s tune and began to hum along.

_“…Give ‘em the old flim flam flummox, fool and fracture ‘em. How can they hear the truth above the roar?...”_

Hunk heard the water shut off and Lance’s singing became a bit muffled though the next verses, but Hunk knew that keeping in time with him would be easy, so he kept quietly singing to himself and snapping his fingers at the appropriate points.

_“…Stun and stagger ‘em, When you're in trouble, go into your dance…”_

The bathroom door opened and Lance’s singing grew louder as he walked towards the kitchen.

_“…Long as you keep ‘em way off balance, How can they spot you’ve got no talents?...”_

Lance appeared in the doorway at this point, arms stretched high on either side of the doorframe, his long legs crossed slightly at the knee as he struck a dramatic pose,

 _“Razzle Dazzle ‘em,_ ” he shimmied down and back up, which was a little bit terrifying for Hunk as he regarded the towel wrapped around Lance’s waist, but Lance took no notice and gripped the side of the door frame with his long arms whilst lifting his leg and hugging it to the frame too. He cast Hunk a conspiratory look to encourage him to join him in his performance. Hunk naturally obliged.

 _“Razzle Dazzle ‘em!”_ he responded. Lance grinned his approval.

 _“Razzle Dazzle ‘em!”_ They sang together in harmony, both grinning at each other. Hunk left the glory of belting out the last line to him.

 _“And they’ll make you a staaaaaaaaaaaaar!”_ Lance held the note perfectly with a slight vibrato, standing just inside the room now with his arms dramatically tossed out either side of himself, fingers spread, then with a final flourish he took a sweeping bow as the note diminished.

Hunk whistled through his teeth and clapped loudly. Lance lifted his head, grinning as droplets of water ran from his tousled brown hair down to the tip of his nose.

As he straightened, Lance gasped dramatically as an idea suddenly came to him. “I need a top hat!” Hunk rolled his eyes, he was more than used to Lance’s natural flamboyance having spent so many years growing up together. ‘Put it on your letter to Santa, buddy, and go get dressed, you’ll be late for class.” Hunk shooed him backwards out the door to his room. He pouted at Hunk for not indulging him, then he grinned and replied, “I’m pretty sure I’m still on his naughty list.” He gave Hunk a cheeky wink and disappeared down the hallway to his room, singing loudly and tap dancing with his bare feet as he went, -

_“I just got an invitation through the mails, ‘Your presence requested this evening, it’s formal, a top hat, a white tie and tails’…”_

Hunk wondered, not for the first time if there was a show tune that Lance didn’t know word-for-word and note-for-note. He admired him for his talent and ambition, though.

Ever since Hunk could remember Lance had been a performer; most of their childhood weekends and evenings were spent making shows in their backyards or bedrooms. Hunk wasn’t one for the limelight, he much preferred to be Lance’s accompaniment on the piano which he’d been made to take lessons for from the age of four. He’d hated the formality of the lessons, but he was grateful for them when it meant he could let loose and share with Lance the passion for music that they both had.

As they had got older their musical endeavours had become more technological, like making videos to post online, and that’s when Hunk discovered how much he enjoyed the creative side of being behind the camera. So it was no surprise to anyone when they’d both enrolled at the Altean School for Performing Arts; Lance studying Musical Theatre and Performance, Hunk studying Theatre Tech.

Thirty minutes of grooming later, Lance stood behind the door to their apartment, dressed to leave in his warm jacket and winding a long blue scarf about his neck. He checked himself out in the mirror once more. Hunk handed him his lunch in a bag which he gratefully took and carefully stuffed it in his backpack. “Thanks, Hunk, you’re the best!”. He caught Hunk’s eye involuntarily as he lifted the bag over his shoulder and turned to open the door. Anyone else would have missed it, but Hunk knew Lance too well and knew exactly what that look held. The undercurrent of apprehension that swam through his ocean blue eyes betraying him, because underneath all of that exuberant Persona, was a messy tangle of anxiety that Hunk knew Lance kept a tight lid on. The only trouble with that was by keeping it under pressure, every now and again it became too great to cope with and Lance couldn’t afford to mess up his final year.

Hunk held him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder, bringing him back around a bit so he could look at him properly, face to face. He smiled softly at him.

“‘Have you been writing those letters to yourself?’” Hunk quoted in a well-rehearsed voice.

Lance gave him a weak grin and in an equally rehearsed, paraphrased reply he closed his eyes and said, “Dear Lance McClain, today is going to be a good day and here’s why: because today, today at least you’re you,” he paused for a beat before steeling himself and pushing through to finish, “And that’s enough”.

Hunk folded him in a tight squeeze and replied the same way he had countless times before; “‘I’m proud of you already!’”. He knew the easiest way to communicate with his best friend was through the power of Broadway. This was a routine he did for Lance when he knew he needed reminding that he was good enough on the days he struggled to believe it for himself and it looked like today was one of those days. He released him from the hug but held on to his shoulders. He saw his features brighten and come to life again; he was glad to be able to have that effect on him. He broke out of character and sighed, “Only a few more weeks until we break for the holidays. Man, I need a break. Hey, how about we head down to The Balmera Club tomorrow night and let off some steam?”

Hunk saw the sparkle that had been there earlier return to his friend’s face.

“Sure, you know that stage misses me.” Lance shot him finger guns with a wink before he finally went out the door.

Hunk chuckled to himself and thought, not as much as you miss it, my friend.

 

 ***************************

 

“ _Shiro!_ ” Keith whined, “Nope. Just… no.” He stood, arms folded, glaring at his brother who stood before him with a grin on his face that said he knew he was going to get his way regardless.

“Aw, c’mon, Keith. It’s my birthday so I get to choose, and we chose The Balmera.”

“Ah! See, ‘We’ means Matt, and you know he just wants to go there to see me suffer. I refuse to be the source of his entertainment for the night.” Keith’s glare became a scowl that would have had most people take a step back, but Shiro knew it wouldn’t become anything more than that. They were only brothers by adoption, but they were the only family each other had known for years which meant they always looked out for each other, or so Keith had thought up until now. “You know I hate karaoke and I especially hate the types of people who go there. They either think they’re god’s gift or can’t carry a tune in a bucket and quite often both; it’s just…” he threw his hands in the air letting them smack off his thighs on the way down, “torture.” He concluded.

Shiro laughed. “I hope that sweeping statement didn’t include Matt and I. Besides, you could show them all how it’s really done. I’m pretty sure they’ll all clam up once you’ve been up for a song.” He gave him an appraising look, Keith’s face flushed slightly, but his scowl remained.

“Firstly, it’s not a competition, second, there is no way I’m singing. Got it?” He fired a piercing look at Shiro, but he ignored it and instead lit up in triumph.

“So, you are coming?” Shiro beamed. Keith belatedly realised what he’d done, but figured he was always going to go, regardless of how he felt about the choice of venue. He also figured he would have dug his heels in no matter where they chose to spend the evening, Keith hated crowds of strangers. The only exception to that rule was when he was performing on stage with his band because that was different. On stage he was in control of the audience, he could control them and manipulate them to do what he wanted and deep down he thrived off that power. He fed off of that potency and put it back into his performance, creating an energy that looped back and forth seamlessly. It was a high like no other. Also, being on stage generally meant a four-foot drop and security between him and the writhing mess of sweaty bodies. That was close enough.

“Pfft, looks like I don’t get a choice.” He huffed with a little less strength, his head and shoulders slumped in resignation. He huffed the black curtain of hair that draped over his eyes out of the way.

Shiro couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at teasing him when he looked into Keith’s dark violet eyes peering up at him, he really had the kicked puppy look down to a fine art and he knew it wasn’t some fake thing he did to twist Shiro’s emotions around, it was purely natural.

“Okay, how about if I tell Matt to leave off? and if you don’t want to sing that’s fine with me.” Shiro reasoned.

Keith narrowed his eyes, “Do you honestly think he’ll stick to that agreement?” He knew Matt too well to be anything other than sceptical about him listening to anything Shiro asked him to do. Yes, they had been seeing each other for a couple of years and had nothing but respect for each other, it was kind of overridden when it had anything to do with winding Keith up. If Matt saw an opportunity to get Keith hot and bothered or mad, he just went for it. And Keith, being the impetuous idiot he was, fell for it, hook, line and sinker every time.

The older brother sighed knowing he was unlikely to guarantee it, “I’ll try my best if he gives you any shit I’ll make sure he pays for it, deal?”

“Okay, deal.” He agreed although he didn’t feel any better about it. “Is Pidge coming too?” The night would be a little easier if Matt’s younger sister were there as well. He got on well with her; if there was somebody that Keith was close enough to and call a friend it was her, but he wasn’t quite ready to make those kinds of attachments just yet. He had thought in the past that if he wasn’t gay he probably would have had a bit of a crush on her. She was smart and sassy with a wicked sense of humour and she was one of the few people he had ever met that just knew when he needed space or needed someone to talk to and actually obliged.

“Nah, unfortunately, she’s having to cover extra shifts at the club, she tried to get out of it, but they’re struggling for staff just now.” Shiro sounded as disappointed as Keith felt.

“I’d better get ready, band practice is a bit earlier than normal tonight”

“Okay, don’t forget your keys, I’ll be round at Matt’s for the night.”

“I won’t,” Keith called back over his shoulder as he headed for his room to shower and change. As he made his way down the hall he sang the song that leapt intrusively into his head; _“Because the night belongs to lovers, because the night belongs to lust…”_

“Very funny, Keith,” Shiro called sarcastically after him.

Keith never missed an opportunity to sing his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you didn’t pick up on them, there was-
> 
> Lance sings - Razzle Dazzle - Chicago, (well, of course!)  
> Lance sings - Top Hat, White Tie and Tails - Top Hat  
> Hunk quotes - Dear Evan Hansen
> 
> Keith sings - Because the Night by Patti Smith
> 
> Chapter title - Waving Through a Window - Dear Evan Hansen
> 
> Working my way through chapter 2, just not wanting to rush it, because I want to get it just right.  
> Leave me a note and let me know what you think, or join me on tumblr - also crazyrandomhappenklance - happy to follow back, I need more mutuals to klance with!


	2. Burning Glances, Turning Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just can't say no to a challenge, can they?  
> Chapter 2: Where Keith doesn't know what's going on, Lance bites off more than he can chew and Matt is having the time of his life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> Oh. My. Gosh!! When I put that first chapter up I honestly thought no one would read it. Then I got subscriptions!! You guys actually wanted to know what happens next :O Thank you all so much, if it weren't for you lot I might have been lazy and just buried it, so this one's for you. I just hope it plays out in words like it did in my head.  
> I encourage you to go and listen to the songs if you don't know them, at least Lance and Keith's numbers.
> 
> Chapter title- Masquerade - Phantom of the Opera  
> Keith's ['Brain Track'] - Say Amen (Saturday Night) - Panic! at the Disco  
> Lance sings- Don't Rain on my Parade - Funny girl (Barbra Streisand)  
> Couple singing (Tony and Wilma)- Paradise by the Dashboard Light - Meatloaf (Based on the couple at my local who also used to murder it, FOR EIGHT AND A HALF MINUTES!)  
> Coran sings- Life on Mars - David Bowie (because, of course)  
> Hunk sings- Walking in Memphis - Marc Cohn (he's a piano guy and he'd nail this)  
> Allura sings- Respect - Aretha Franklin  
> Lance sings- Everybody Loves a Lover - Doris Day (This is the song that started this whole fic off, If I hadn't imagined him singing it, I wouldn't be typing this right now. GO, LISTEN TO IT!!)  
> Really awful girl singing- Blanket on the Ground - Billy Jo Spears (yes, writer insert, from that one time I fucked up from the start and couldn't recover and died on stage)  
> Shiro and Matt sing- Time of my Life - Dirty Dancing (Bill Medley, Jennifer Warnes)  
> Keith sings- *SPOILERS!!* see end notes!
> 
> It's a pretty long playlist for this chapter, just by the very nature of it. 
> 
> Now, without further ado...

“Jesus, Keith. Are you still getting ready?” Shiro tapped impatiently on the woodwork of the door frame next to Keith’s room.

Keith’s indignant grumble came sharply from inside the bathroom. “Well, we can’t all just roll out the door looking like Adonis, some of us need to put in a little effort.”

Shiro huffed a laugh and decided there was no point in telling Keith just how naturally good looking he was because his ‘going out face’ was one he’d perfected over the last few months and he knew he would feel uncomfortable going out for the evening without it.

He decided to join Matt back in the living room and admitted to himself that they were not in any real rush, for now. The Balmera was popular on a Saturday night and its proximity to the local campus meant it usually drew in a crowd, but the students usually drank in the dorms at the start of the night and came out later to save on money, so there was still a good chance of getting a table before it got really busy.

Keith leaned over the sink, focusing whilst gently pulling on the skin just below his left eye.

**[Been travelling in packs that I can't carry anymore**

**Been waiting for somebody else to carry me...]**

He carefully placed the kohl pencil to his lower lid and with practised ease, he ran a black line gently along his lash line. He groused at Shiro’s impatience as he switched sides to repeat the same to his other eye, careful not to fog the mirror with his breath as he did so.

**[...All the people I know aren't who they used to be,]**

He would love to be able to just throw on a jacket and head out for the night like a normal guy, like Shiro or Matt, but even the thought of doing so made an uncomfortable sensation start in his stomach. Even something as simple as a bit of eyeliner was enough to give him the feeling of wearing a mask; he thought of it a little like tribal paint, the thing that told all those others at the club that he was different, that he was definitely _not like them._

After making the finishing touches to his eyes he took a step back and appraised himself in the mirror.

 **[...And if I try to change my life one more day...** **]**

The dark shading around his eyes paired beautifully with the inky-black hair that framed his face and came to a stop in gentle flicks at the junction of his neck and shoulders. It made a stark contrast against his almost china-white completion. A combination of ‘dark and mysterious’ and ‘pale and interesting’.

**[...And I can't change into a person I don't wanna be, so…]**

He looked himself up and down. What he was wearing was no different from what he usually wore; a slightly faded, slim fit black V-neck T-shirt and jeans that matched in both colour and style with a black leather belt that hung lazily around his skinny hips.

**[And every morning when I wake up**

**I wanna be who I couldn't say I'd ever been...]**

He deflated a bit when he realised that he should probably make a bit more of an effort for Shiro’s birthday, so he slipped into his bedroom. He looked around his stuff, he reached out and brushed his fingers against the black silk of the object sitting on his chest of drawers, but then retracted them - too showy he thought, changing his mind quickly - and he grabbed the red bandana from the end of his bed.

Tying it around his neck, he shot a final look at himself in his bedroom mirror.

 **[...** **I've been standing up beside everything I've ever said, but…]**

He figured he was good to go and wandered through to join the other two in the living room, the melody continuing to buzz quietly in his mind.

He found Shiro sitting on his own on the sofa, his boyfriend having taken advantage of the now vacant bathroom. Shiro stretched up and handed Keith a beer as he sat down on the arm of the chair across from him.

“Cheers.” He said tapping the bottom of his bottle to the bottom of the other, making a sharp clink.

“Cheers, happy birthday, Shiro.” Keith took a long drink then began picking at the corner of the paper label with his thumbnail, a slight tension had already begun to eat at his nerves.

Shiro ran his hand through the shock of white hair that made up his bangs; a juxtaposition to the rest of the shorter dark hair he had at the back. He knew that it had been induced by trauma, but Keith had always told him he thought it made him look really bad-ass. Shiro cleared his throat.

“Hey, before we head out, I just wanted to say that I don’t want you to worry about money for tonight. I know you’ll make a fuss about wanting to pay your share, but I know how hard you’re trying to save right now and I just want you to relax and have some fun tonight,” - Keith repressed a snort in reaction to the words ‘relax’ and ‘fun’, this was Shiro’s night out after all and he didn’t want to spoil it with his hang-ups. - “So I’m saying this now before we get into an argument, tonight is on me and that’s the last I’m going to say about it.”

Keith pursed his lips, frowning. He didn’t like it. He was fiercely independent after having spent most of his life having to prove (either to himself or the system) he didn’t need to rely on anyone, and even although Shiro was family, he hated feeling like a charity case. It was entirely his own fault he was a drop-out, and it was entirely his own fault he was in as much trouble as he was. There was no way he was letting his brother know about that, though. As far as Shiro was aware, Keith was saving for a deposit for his own place. He was potentially in a seriously bad situation and he needed every penny he could get, but he couldn’t risk Shiro finding out, it was too dangerous for him to get involved. He felt guilty as he nodded his head, silently accepting his offer, much to the other man’s surprise that he wasn’t putting up a fight.

The mood of the room shifted then when Matt returned and wolf-whistled at Keith with a grin as he picked up his own beer off the table and settled against Shiro’s side on the sofa. Keith gave him an unamused and sceptical glare.

“Seriously!” Matt said, sounding bewildered, “you really have no idea, do you?” He huffed in exasperation, “I’m telling you, man, if you don’t pull tonight then the whole world is blind.” Keith tutted and rolled his eyes, but felt a blush creep up his face, so he ducked his head over his bottle that was nestled in his hands on his lap, pulling at the paper that was beginning to come away from the side of the glass and hid behind his black fringe of hair.

“Seriously?” He questioned back, “You can imagine something like that happening at the Balmera with someone like me?” He scoffed, “and, before you start, spare me the ‘there’s someone for everyone’ lines, or ‘love happens in the most unexpected places’ chat because that just won’t happen in _that_ place.”

“Wow. Okay, Mr Sunbeam, I’m putting a bet on this, oh ye of little faith!” Matt reached for his wallet on the table.

“Shiro…” Keith half warned, half pleaded.

When the attention shifted to him, Shiro tried to swallow the grin that had crept upon his face whilst watching their exchange. Knowing how close Keith was to storming off and shutting himself in his room for the night, he quickly frowned at Matt and told him to give Keith a rest. Matt backed down, looking like a kid that had just been told off by his dad, then his face took on a serious expression, but his eyes held a glint. He raised his bottle, index finger pointing at Keith to capture his attention, then his eyes drifted up as he recalled and quoted, -

“The Wanton, though she knows its dangers, must needs smear kohl about her eyes, and wake the interest of strangers, with long-drawn, hoarse, erotic sighs… oof!” If he hadn’t closed his eyes during his recital he would have seen the cushion coming before it hit him in the face.

Keith stood up, a remorseless smirk pulling at the sides of his mouth. The couple of beers he’d had were just beginning to take the edge off of his nerves and put him in a bit more of an upbeat mood. Although he wasn’t going to admit it, there was now a small part of him looking forward to going out; as long as he could stick to Shiro and Matt, not make eye contact with anyone or be forced to sing… He picked up his New Rock boots and took them back to the chair to put on.

Matt, feeling the weight of Shiro’s glare above him, decided that he had better start to behave. Not really wishing to mess with Keith’s temper, he decided to play to his better side.

Most of what he knew about Keith he had learned through Shiro. Apart from his love of music (and a weird thing for hippos), there wasn’t much that the younger brother gave away. One thing he had gleaned from him after a late night playing cards, was that Keith’s brain was always silently running what he had described as a soundtrack to his life. His head was never void of a song or tune which mostly, although not always, reflected what was on his mind. Matt thought it was an awesome quirk and often asked him what was playing in his head. They called it his ‘Brain Track’.

“Hey, gimme the tune we’re going out to; what’s your Brain Track playing tonight?” Matt asked in a light tone with a genuine look of curiosity. They were now standing and getting their jackets on, ready to leave. Keith shrugged on his red and white leather jacket and straightened the collar around the back of his neck whilst giving them both a wide grin, preparing them, knowing they’d approve of his head’s subliminal selection for the moment. He couldn’t say it, he needed to sing it. He closed his eyes as the words and tune left him, like an energy that needed to be released, like some kind of part of him that he needed to let go, leaving a feeling like he wasn’t himself, what was left was someone else, an alter ego.

_“I pray for the wicked on the weekend_

_Mama, can I get another amen?”_

Matt and Shiro instantly knew it and quickly responded, smiling,-

_“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah!”_

Keith flashed a grin as they sang, then continued-

_“Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent_

_Mama, can I get another amen?”_

This time they all sang it together-

_“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah!”_

***

Hunk was glad it was the weekend, not just for the welcome relief from classes, but it meant he had plenty of time to relax and get ready to go out. Not that he was anything like his roommate in terms of preening. Where it took Hunk maybe an hour to shower, shave, arrange his dark hair into something of a style and pick out what clothes he wanted to wear for the evening, it took Lance somewhere in the region of three. Sometimes four.

His singing, as usual, was carrying loudly through the apartment –

_“…Ooh, life is juicy Juicy,_

_and you see I gotta have my bite, sir!_

_Get ready for me, love Cause I'm a comer_

_I simply gotta march My heart's a drummer...”_

At the moment, Hunk had been ready to go for over an hour and he imagined Lance was nowhere near ready to leave the bathroom let alone leave the apartment. He tapped the side of his phone as he absently scrolled through various social media apps. He grinned when a message from Allura popped up on the screen.

{Allura} **Hey, I heard you two were heading out to the Balmera 2nite, mind if I join u?**

{Hunk} **Hey! Of course u can! We’re leaving as soon as Lance is ready… :/**

{Allura} **OMG, that’ll be HOURS! :O**

{Hunk} **Telll me about it!!**

He heard Lance leave the bathroom, finally, and pad to his bedroom.

{Allura} **Wanna meet me in 30? Lance can catch up…**

{Hunk} **Sounds like a plan, cu soon :D**

{Allura} **Yay! Cu soon!!!**

He was still grinning when he rapped lightly on Lance’s bedroom door. Allura had that effect on him. She was one of the happiest people he knew and it was infectious, even through a text message. She had an even stronger effect in person.

They had met a few years ago when she was in her final year. She was now a vocal coach at their college, but Lance had signed up for free lessons that she taught after school when she was still studying, as practice for when she became the real thing. It was a bit weird when she had actually become one of their teachers, but they’d quickly realised it really didn’t make a difference to their friendship, and they still hung out together when they could. Of course, she slayed at karaoke.

Lance’s singing continued-

_“...I'm gonna live and live now_

_Get what I want, I_ _know how_

_One roll for the whole shebang_

_One throw, that bell will go clang_

_Eye on the target, and wham_

_One shot, one gun shot, and BAM!_

_Hey, Mister Arnstein, here I am!”_

He knocked this time, a little louder. “Lance? Allura just messaged me, she’s going to meet up with us at the club. I’m going to go along there in a minute, meet us there?” Hunk was sure there was no way he’d be ready any time soon.

“Cool! Sure, no problemo, man! See you there!”

***

Matt held the door open for the other two. The club was only just beginning to get busy when they arrived, it wasn’t that noisy just yet, only a mild hum of chatter over the current singers and the various clunks and chinks coming from the bar. Thankfully, there were still tables free. After getting their first round of drinks, they managed to snag a table near the back of the room, Keith more or less dragging the other two, probably because it was the furthest from the small platform that functioned as a stage. They peeled off their jackets and arranged themselves comfortably around the table. Keith swept a look around the room, warily. The karaoke host, an odd looking guy with a large ginger moustache, was sat behind a little table to the side of the stage that was littered with electronic equipment.

Shiro huffed a laugh when he saw the grimace that was scrunching up Keith’s face. He was watching the couple currently on the stage who were murdering Paradise by the Dashboard Light. Keith lifted both hands palm up and jabbing towards them, looking at Shiro with an expression that said, “See?”. He was probably right about the sorts of people that came here, but there were one or two regulars that were pretty good and to him it was worth filtering out the bad acts to appreciate the few decent ones. Plus, he enjoyed having a go himself and he thought he and Matt did a fairly reasonable turn at dueting.

The couple finished their massacre (“Give it up for Tony and Wilma!” The moustached man had tried to encourage the audience) then the host himself took a turn at singing a pretty good version of Life on Mars. After him, a big guy in a yellow T-shirt sang an incredible version of Walking in Memphis. Keith was mildly impressed. (Okay, he was really, really impressed, but he wasn’t going to admit it.) The sound of applause and whistles lifted the room when he finished and Keith watched him return to his table that was by the side of the host’s spot. He shared a hug with his companion, a pretty girl with dark skin and long, shocking white hair that rivalled Shiro’s, pulled up in a high ponytail. She high-fived him with enthusiasm as he sat back down.

Before the host had a chance to call up the next singer there was a series of loud whoops from around the room. They all seemed to be directed towards a tall guy with Latino features who had just walked in. He nodded and waved acknowledgement to a few of the people around the room as he looked about, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He winked and shot finger guns at a table of girls he passed that had been calling out to him. _Pffft,_ Keith thought, rolling his eyes, _What the hell…?_ He felt confused as to what all the fuss was about, he looked like a douche. The guy finally spotted his friends and rushed over to them; the couple at the table next to the host. He kind of reminded Keith of an over-grown puppy.

Shiro caught his confused expression and as if by way of an explanation, he leaned over and said, “Lance.” Keith looked back at him, still frowning in confusion. Shiro grinned like he knew something Keith didn’t, and simply said with a smile, “you’ll see…” Well, that cleared everything up. Not.

The host, now standing, greeted the newcomer like he knew him well, clapping him on the back, then spoke to the girl with white hair, who’s face broke out in a smile. She slid out from her seat against the wall and made her way towards the stage, collecting a microphone from the ginger-haired man as she went.

“Ladies, gentlemen and non-binaries…” He addressed the audience, “Allura!”. There was a thunderous round of applause and whooping (an especially loud amount coming from the guy who’d just joined them) and Allura grinned bashfully, passing the mic from one hand to the other before composing herself in the spotlight as the first few bars of her song came on. All of a sudden, it was like someone had switched the girl up there for someone else. No longer bashful and sheepish, she launched into her song with a passion and voice that was both powerful and confident.

_“What you want_

_Baby, I got,_

_What you need_

_Do you know I got it?_

_All I'm askin'_

_Is for a little respect when you come home”_

Her two friends, the one with the yellow T-shirt and… Lance? were doing a little synchronised dance with their arms like backing singers, trying to match the others moves as they took it in turns to come up with a new action, laughing when they got it wrong and bumped into each other. Allura smiled at them from her spot and nodded when they started to sing the backing singer’s part in harmony with each other, both of them easily heard despite the volume of the music.

_(just a little bit)_

_“Hey baby,”_

_(just a little bit)_

_“When you get home,”_

_(just a little bit)_

_“Mister.”_

_(just a little bit)_

Keith was unaware that he’d stopped watching Allura’s performance in favour of the two boys goofing around. He watched as Lance made a particularly flamboyant gesture, causing him to knock one of the glasses on their table, making it wobble dangerously. He managed to catch it just in time, only spilling a bit over the side, making the two friends look at each other in wide-eyed amazement, then they erupted in laughter. Keith also snorted in laughter at the sight, making Shiro turn his head sharply at the unfamiliar noise. He managed to follow Keith’s line of sight just before he turned to look at him. Shiro peered at him with curiosity only to be met with an icy glare, so he dropped it. Keith felt his face grow warm. He focused his attention back to Allura, her confidence peaking as she reached the climax of her number-

_“R-E-S-P-E-C-T_

_Find out what it means to me,_

_R-E-S-P-E-C-T_

_Take care, TCB.”_

The two at the table whooped and leapt back into their backing singer roles with more vigour than before-

 _(sock it to me,_ _sock it to me...)_  

The song faded and Allura took a gracious bow as the audience went nuts, then the bashful look returned to her face as she handed the mic back to the host and returned to her friends who took it in turns to double high-five her and each other.

Keith realised he was staring, again. He was about to look away when he noticed Lance had taken off his jacket and was wearing a white t-shirt with the words ‘LIKES KLAINE’ in big black letters on the front. Keith choked on his drink. Matt and Pidge constantly took the piss out of him for not getting pop culture references, but this one, this one he understood. He really wished he didn’t. He wondered if anybody else here would ‘get’ it, before giving it more thought and considered the meaning behind Lance actually wearing it. In an amazing display of indignity, Keith managed to choke again before he’d even recovered from the first. Matt and Shiro both jumped in alarm, but Keith, desperate not to bring about any more attention to himself, waved his hand at them to make them back off, then surreptitiously tried holding his breath through the fits, his whole body convulsing until they finally receded, leaving him red in the face and quietly gasping for air. Shiro looked at him questioningly, obviously wondering what had happened, so Keith stopped him from actually asking and just shrugged like he had no idea where it had come from.

“You okay now?” Shiro asked with concern.

“I-I’m fine.” He managed to croak out. His throat burned a little, so he took a few cautious sips of his beer to sooth it. Thankfully, his brother’s attention was back on the stage and he was clapping and cheering; he realised that most of the room were too. He looked round to see that Lance was now in the spot light, Keith must have missed the host’s introduction during his fit. In contrast to Allura, he was standing grinning, oozing with confidence almost to the point of cockiness. It somehow irked Keith, even although he had no idea why. He stood front and centre with his body turned to the side, right leg up stage, slightly bent at the knee, his foot up on bent toes. He was already holding the microphone up to his lips in his right hand. Looking across his shoulder with anticipation, his eyes were playful and sparkling.

The music began.

A plucked guitar.

A snap of fingers. Lance snapped the fingers of his left hand up by his waist, dropping his hip in time to the rhythm.

A brushed snare drum.

He sang…

_“Everybody loves a lover I'm a lover,_

_everybody loves me_

_Anyhow, that's how I feel_

_Wow, I feel just like a Pollyanna”_

Keith felt like he was being put under a spell; Lance’s voice was smooth and alluring. The rhythmic dip of his hip was mesmerising. Keith’s eyes stayed on him as he began to move around the stage, watching how his hands became expressive as his feet shuffled and danced him about the platform with fluid movements in what looked like carefully choreographed steps, his hips swaying and popping a little too much. But it worked. The audience was loving it.

Lance’s head turned towards Keith, their eyes met. For a moment there was nothing, then a sly smile spread across Lance’s face. Keith’s brain spluttered as he fought to remember where he was, but he managed to keep his face expressionless, thanks to years of practising indifference. He was just about to break the contact when Lance did it first, quickly turning his head to focus on the girls that were seated at the table in front of him and began the next verse with even more flamboyance -

_“Who's the most popular personality?_

_I can't help thinkin' it's no one else but me_

_Gee, I feel just about ten feet tall,_

_havin' a ball Guess ya might call me a Pollyanna”_

Keith groaned to himself as he considered the words as he sang them. _For real? Argh! This guy is such a -_

_“Everybody loves a lover…”_

The instrumental break began and he left the stage at this point, stalking the room seductively, taking each table at a time and flirting without reticence with at least one member of each group as he went. A trail of fingers along a shoulder here, a flick of a tie there. Keith briefly wondered how inappropriate it was for him to do that, but then he noticed that the people that were getting his attention had all kind of welcomed it before he began, the ones avoiding eye contact or showing any kind of reluctant body language he avoided, which made him wonder why he did what he did next, because Keith figured his body language was always set to ‘fuck off’.

Making his way deeper into the audience, he reached Keith’s table just as the next verse began-

 _“Everybody loves a lover,”_ He trapped Keith with his eyes again.

 _“I'm a lover, everybody loves me,”_ He bent at the waist and leaned on the table, putting his elbows on the surface and dramatically put his chin on the back of his hand, bringing their faces level. Keith kept his expression as neutral as ever, but it was a struggle. Why was his usual death-stare not working?! There was no way in hell he was going to give this jackass the satisfaction and look away. 

 _“_ _Anyhow, that's how - I - feel,”_ He popped his hips from side to side with the last three words on the beat, still bent over. Keith fought to keep his eyes from looking there.

 _"Wow, I feel just like a Pollyanna”_ He playfully ran his finger down his bandana then booped Keith on the nose. Keith felt every muscle in his body tense, but he was going to win this.

Lance straightened, turned abruptly and sashayed his way back to the stage, every step an exaggerated swish of his hips.

Keith licked his lips realising his mouth had gone dry. He swallowed thickly and took a drink from the bottle in front of him. He could feel Matt and Shiro’s eyes staring at him, waiting for some kind of reaction, but the thought of giving either of them gratification made sure he kept his features steady while he maintained his air of nonchalance. So he hoped.

 _"..._ _Since I fell in love with,_

_Fell in love with,_

_Fell in love with you”_

The song ended. Keith exhaled.

Lance bowed with a flourish to the onlookers who were giving him the biggest round of applause that anyone had received so far. He blew kisses with both hands and returned the microphone before skipping off back to his table where his friends were waiting with open arms and wrapped him in a group hug.

Keith could hear Matt laughing even over the noise of the room. If looks could kill then that was exactly what he was aiming for when he turned to confront him. He threw another at Shiro to convey his feeling of betrayal. It wasn’t precisely how he had thought Matt would use him for his own entertainment, but there was no denying that he had predicted it from the start.

Shiro lifted a finger to Matt as a warning, which did make him cover his mouth and turn away to stifle his hysterics. He turned back to Keith. “Are you okay?” He asked cautiously, not knowing what was going on in his younger brother’s head. He could see a multitude of emotions swimming around those his eyes, not just anger.

“What?” Keith gruffed.

“Nothing! It’s just… “ he decided just to drop it. “Nothing.”

Knowing he might do or say something he’d regret, Keith stood up and marched to the bar; to hell with what Shiro had said about paying.

He waited to be served, looking down, scuffing his boot along the metal footrest that sat just above the carpet. When it was his turn he ordered another round of drinks and added a couple of shots for himself, which he knocked back quickly before lifting the bottles to return to the table. He needed something extra to quiet his thoughts. How could one guy wind him up so badly without even having spoken to him? But that performance… _shit, he was good_. He started to think about how his own stage presence compared, but quickly shook that thought away; they were completely different, so there was no comparison to be drawn.

Turning, he smacked into someone walking towards the bar. Of course it was Lance.

“Whoa! Shit-shit-shit! Sorry, my fault!” He watched as a bottle skittered across the floor, thankfully not breaking, but spraying beer as it went. He looked up; of course it was this guy. Fear made him start to shrink back a bit under the dark-eyed boy’s glower, but something about this guy just made him push back against it. He’d felt the same way when he’d been up singing. Despite knowing the majority of the room was watching him, he had felt a strange sensation that travelled up his spine, like he was being contemplated by a predator. He’d eventually found the pair of dark, smouldering eyes responsible at a table at the back of the room. Something about it had made him feel vulnerable, and out of some kind of weird instinct he had been driven to… what? Intimidate him? He’d never done anything like that before. Both Allura and Hunk had picked up on it, wondering what the little extra in his performance had been about, but he had shrugged it off, telling them they were mistaken. Feeling awkward and a little guilty about it, he had planned on avoiding that guy for the rest of the night, but, typically, here he was, literally running into him and making a complete idiot of himself in the process. He hesitated before picking up the bottle and indicated back to the bar, “I’ll, um, get you another.”

Saying nothing, for no other reason than he didn’t know what to say, Keith followed the taller boy to the bar. It was busier now than it had been a few minutes ago, so they had to wait to be served. He leaned on the bar with his elbow while Lance waited to be served. He tried not to, but he found himself staring at Lance again; he stared at his stupid chestnut brown hair; his stupid Glee T-shirt; his stupid, beautifully toned arm; his stupid hand tucked in the stupid back pocket of his stupid jeans, cupping his stupid…

The voice of the host cut through the chatter, pulling him sharply and mercifully out of his thoughts. When he’d got up from their table he had managed to mentally block out the singer that had gone up after Lance (a really awful girl that had sung Blanket on the Ground, who was off key right from the start), but hearing Matt and Shiro’s names amplified across the room made him stand up straight. Yep, there they were. Keith couldn’t even remember either of them going up to put in a request.

They stood facing each other, mics at the ready. There was very little in the way of a musical introduction, but Shiro hit his cue perfectly,-

_“Now I've had the time of my life_

_No, I never felt like this before_

_Yes I swear it's the truth_

_And I owe it all to you”_

Matt reached out for Shiro’s hand, who took it. They smiled at each other so fondly that it made Keith feel a little uncomfortable. Matt took his cue for the higher part but in his own lower octave-

_“'Cause I've had the time of my life_

_And I owe it all to you,”_

“Aww, they’re so cute!” Lance fawned, turning towards Keith.

He bristled, not sure how to take either the comment or the fact that Lance was trying to start a conversation with him. He rolled his eyes. It seemed to cover both. He turned, angling his body toward the stage and put both his elbows on the bar, leaning back.

Lance mirrored Keith’s pose, “Are you a friend of theirs?” He nodded towards the stage. The more the guy in the black T-shirt radiated hostility, the more he wanted to break it. It was like some kind of compulsive challenge he was finding it hard to walk away from, even though instinctively he felt like he should.

The words left his mouth without permission. “My brother and his boyfriend.” He wanted to slap his hand over his mouth, regretting giving the stupid guy any kind of knowledge about himself. Well, it was done now, he supposed.

“Sooo… do you sing? Got a request in yet?” Lance had no idea why he was asking him this, the guy looked like he didn’t even want to be there, let alone participate. Keith, being a little shorter than the other boy, glared up at him, it didn’t put Lance off, “Although I’d get it if you don’t, it can be pretty intimidating in here sometimes…” In his head it had meant to come out as a sympathetic kind of comment to give the guy an out without him having to explain his reasons for not participating if he wasn’t, but out loud it sounded like a challenge. Something in the other guy's eyes seemed to change, but his expression remained fixed.

“I sing,” he replied smoothly with a little shrug, “just a little.” There was the trace of a smirk gently lifting one corner of his mouth, Lance was grateful for being interrupted by the barman in that moment, asking what he’d like to order. He had a feeling that he’d started something he was going to regret later and worst of all he had no idea why.

Although he may have looked cool on the outside, on the inside Keith was a raging mess of emotions. Why the hell was he stepping up to this? He’d sworn he wasn’t going to sing, but now he felt this crazy urge to prove himself to this smug jerk, despite going against everything the rational part of his brain was telling him to do. _Don’t do it Kogane, you don’t need to prove anything._

It was, however, a pretty small part of his brain. A part he didn’t listen to much.

The short pause in their conversation, if that was what it was, was enough for Lance to bolster himself again. Handing Keith the bottle he’d got to replace the dropped one, he couldn’t help but poke the bear.

“Lemme guess,” he taunted, suddenly feeling audacious once more, he looked him up and down deliberately then eyed him sideways, “My Chemical Romance? Fall Out Boy? Paramore?”. Keith felt a prickle of heat being under the scrutiny of those blue eyes, although his pride was a little hurt that he should be summed up and judged so quickly, especially seeing as he knew he was so much more, or… had been so much more. Frustration and anger clouded his emotions, then an idea started to form. He looked Lance up and down in much the same way he’d done to him. If this was going to be a game of intimidation, then he was going to give it his all.

He was also going to question himself thoroughly in the morning when he was sober.

He leaned into Lance’s space to reply, close enough so that he could be heard over Matt and Shiro, who were still singing, but definitely closer than was necessary. “I could surprise you, you know.”

“Surprise me?” Lance swallowed thickly, he wasn’t sure how to respond. The violet eyes that bore into his held a sparkle of mischief. Out of nowhere, his stomach flipped.

“Oh yeah, I’m full of surprises.” He was making himself embarrassed by the way he was behaving, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He tapped his finger on his chin. “Hows about something… Cuban…?”

Cuban? Lance thought. Okay, he was surprised.

“…mambo?” Keith mused, playfully. He knew he had him on the back foot, but what was he thinking?! There was no way he could back out of this now, he was going to have to follow through and sing. _Damn it!_

He lifted the bottle and nodded with the most pleasant smile he could muster, “Thanks.” Then before he could lose his nerve he walked quickly back to their table, dropped the beers onto it and marched up to the host’s desk to make his request.

Matt and Shiro had finished their song and were returning to their table. Keith walked straight past them, careful to not catch their eye for fear of… what? He didn’t actually know.

Lance, still stood by the bar, watched him as he told the host, Coran, his request, curious when he responded with a laugh that made his moustache quiver. Lance returned to his table expecting to get grilled by his two friends, but apparently everyone had got up to dance on the tiny dance floor when Matt and Shiro’s song had inspired everyone to join in, so they had missed his little encounter with the boy with the dark eyes. He desperately wanted to ask Coran what he had said, (he hadn’t even got his name) but he was too busy taking more requests to get a chance to quiz him.

***

Matt couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “So, wha-“

“Shut up.” Keith snapped.

That was the end of that.

***

It was a few rounds later before Keith heard his name being called out. He rose from his seat without hesitation and made is way across the room which was packed with people now. He wove his way around the tables to the host to collect his mic. He felt the familiar shiver of anticipation as his foot met the platform, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. He heard some whoops and cheers from the back of the room, no need to look to know who it was. A cool calm came over him. He anchored his feet to the floor, his head bowed forward and his arms hung by his sides, the mic tight in his left hand as the music began to start,-

A strum of guitar chords.

A clap of hands. Keith heard Matt and Shiro clapping along, he knew they’d be laughing and it made him smirk. Pretty soon the rest of the room were joining in too. There was that energy; that spark. He could do this. _Let’s do this._

A plucky bass.

A tap on a cymbal and drum.

Rough notes picked out on a guitar, then came the saxophone.

Keith couldn’t help the smile that turned up the corners of his mouth and no more. He knew, without looking, that the tall boy at the table in his peripheral was the only one not clapping. He itched to see the expression on his face.

Keith never moved his feet once, he fixed them to the floor, just wide enough apart to give him the freedom to move. The rest of him, however, was something else.

Keith used every muscle he had, letting the music flow through him, showing off his natural lithe physique. His shoulders rolled, his hips swayed and twisted, his back arched and fell, his arms circled around drawing patterns in the air like something exotic. He had everyone’s attention and he hadn’t even needed to sing.

He knew that moment was coming, however. With a thrilling sense of satisfaction he lifted his head enough to look broodily through his dark bangs, his gaze swept the room, then landed on Lance with precision and timing. Capturing his gaze, he lifted the mic and ran his tongue along his lips to moisten them. His voice was deep and husky,-

_“Tequila”_

A shiver had run down his spine when Keith had locked eyes with him, the violet that had been there earlier was replaced with something deeper, darker, almost black and animalistic. His stomach had done another one of those little flips, then he had _heard_ him and he felt like something inside him had caught fire. It was just one word. How the hell had he managed to turn a perfectly innocent word into something so _licentious?_ Keith had then broken their connection and turned his face away when the tune began to play again. He felt sweat start to bead on his forehead and realised he was holding his breath. He tried to let it out slowly so as not to attract the attention of Hunk and Allura but then realised that they were both staring at him with questioning expressions and raised eyebrows. How was he going to explain this? They obviously knew something was up. He was beginning to think that perhaps he’d misjudged him completely and was now being played and paying the price.

The song went on.

Lance knew what was coming the second time Keith turned towards him; the second time the word came around, the second time that Lance caught fire. He should have looked away, but he couldn’t stop himself from focusing on the dancing figure in front of him. He – had Coran said his name was Keith? – was only standing in the one spot, but he was working the whole room from there. Each action was small, but it seemed like each one set off a chain reaction through his body, causing ripples of movement. He looked up towards the ceiling and let his head fall back, his dark hair falling from his face, his hands reached up above him, rolling and turning, causing the bottom of his T-shirt to rise up enough to expose the toned muscles of his stomach and the tight lines that disappeared below the waist of his jeans. _Holy shit…_

Keith was all-out grinning smugly now. He didn’t need to look at Lance again, his work was done and so was Lance, by the look of it. The expression on his face had been comical, he’d had to bite on his lip to stop himself from falling over into peels of laughter. He let himself enjoy the last few moments of the energy from the room.

The last few beats played out on the guitar and Keith held the microphone high in the air towards the audience to allow them to finish the song; they’d deserved it.

_“TEQUILA!”_

The sound of clapping, cheering and whistling echoed around him. He handed the mic back to Coran who praised him for his talents, but it didn’t quite reach his ears. As he turned to head back to his table he caught Lance’s eye one more time and winked.

Wait…

Since when did he, Keith Kogane, _wink?_

Lance lost the little control he had and blushed a deep crimson. He turned away quickly to try to avoid the humiliation, but he couldn’t escape the expressions of his two friends who were staring pointedly at him, obviously waiting for answers. He wasn’t going to be able to brush this off, was he?

Allura glared at him the way his mom would if she caught him stealing cookies before dinner.

“What have you been up to?” She asked, without even questioning whether he was innocent of anything or not. Lance wanted to resent that assumption, but he knew that he didn’t have a leg to stand on, she knew him too well. He tried to speak, but he was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened and make sense of it himself, and that wink had apparently wiped all coherent thoughts from him. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave up and took a drink from the glass in his hand.

“Do you know Keith Kogane?” At least Hunk was asking low-level entry questions.

“No?” It actually came out more of a question than an answer. “Why?”

“Well, you were kind of acting like you knew him. Like, knew him-knew him.” Hunk suggested.

Had it been that bad? “I – he – we,” Lance stammered, still trying to join his thoughts together. He took a deep breath and exhaled before beginning again. “I don’t know what happened,” he offered, honestly, “I think he just kind of pissed me off, then I kind off pissed him off and…”

Hunk laughed loudly, “That was him being pissed off? In that case, make sure your carrying protection if you ever get in a fight with him!” His laughter was becoming uncontrollable, “and by protection I mean-“

“I get it!” Lance flushed again and shot daggers at his friend, he wasn’t helping his confusion, if anything he was adding to it; it was weird, right? He’d felt pissed off by the way Keith had intimidated him when he was singing, and he’d intimidated him right back, that seemed fair. Except, and he was not proud to admit it, he’d intimidated him _sexually._ That was not normal. That was pretty bad.

He was going to question himself thoroughly in the morning when he was sober.

But then, Lance reasoned, he’d pissed Keith off and Keith had done the same to him, right? Right? Well, Keith hadn’t really been as physical as he’d been… it was from a distance, from the stage… but it was kind of the same, right? Hmm, his argument was beginning to sound weaker the more he thought about it.

“He is very handsome though,” Allura broke through his thoughts like a sledgehammer. He’d missed the subtle wink she had given Hunk. Hunk grinned.

“Those eyes!” Hunk swooned, fluttering his lashes.

“Those hips!” Allura fanned herself with her hand.

“Dat ass!” Hunk hissed, “I’d ta-“

“Don’t!” Lance warned, holding his hand up to his friends. “It wasn’t – I didn’t – “ he was stuttering again. He wanted to shut them down, tell them it wasn’t like that, but he didn’t actually know what it was like. Being bi, Lance wasn’t opposed to variety, but he had a type and Keith was not his type. Or so he’d thought. Their points were valid.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Lance announced suddenly, avoiding any more discussion on the subject.

***

Matt and Shiro greeted Keith back to their table like a hero.

“Knew you’d do it.” Matt teased.

“Shut up.” Keith fired back, but there was a gentle smile playing across his lips. It had been fun, he would admit, but only to himself.

_He’d winked?_

He wasn’t sure how much of that pleasure had come from performing, or the reaction he’d earned from playing Lance at his own game. He’d managed to avoid actually singing whilst still picking up the gauntlet that Lance had thrown at his feet; he felt quite accomplished, but, _he’d winked._

Matt seemed oblivious to his reasons for getting up to sing, but a look in Shiro’s direction told him that it hadn’t escaped his attention, he must have seen them talking at the bar. He was staring at Keith, trying to analyse his thoughts from his features. “Anything you want to tell me?” He asked vaguely.

Matt looked between the two, confused by his question, wondering what he’d missed.

Truth be told, Keith didn’t have a clue what was going on. _He’d winked?_

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Keith deadpanned.

Shiro’s lips twitched. “Matt thinks Lance has a thing for you, don’t you Matty?”

“What, Love?” Matt hadn’t been paying attention to Shiro, but he clicked to his meaning when he turned to him. “Oh, yeah- _Lance_ ,” Matt stretched the name out, laced with suggestion and smiled wolfishly at Keith. “Man, his eyes were all over you there.” He motioned to the stage.

“Shut up.” Keith seemed to be saying that a lot tonight.

“Jeez, give yourself a break, emo. I told you earlier I was putting a bet on you, looks like I won!” He sing-songed in triumph. “Besides, I think he’s super cute,” Matt continued, “And with a beacon of a T-shirt like that it looks like you and him could share a few things in common. What do you think, Shiro?”

So he hadn’t been the only one to pick up on the T-shirt thing then.

Shiro had had too much to drink by this point to guard his words with Keith. He nodded, “Very cute, and damn, he’s got the moves!” Matt playfully elbowed him in the ribs and they both giggled into each other.

“Hey!” Matt chided in mock offence, “I can show you some moves…” he drawled, pulling him in for a kiss.

Keith coughed and took the opportunity to escape the awkward conversation. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

***

He’d _winked._

It was so out of character for him that he was still thinking about it now as he was aimlessly trying to dry his hands on the pathetic puff of cold air coming out the hand-dryer. He gave up and wiped them on the back of his jeans as he left the bathroom, grateful he wasn’t wearing his leather pants. He pushed the door with his shoulder as he went, running straight into Lance for the second time that night. He swore under his breath in exasperation.

Lance felt shocked at first but quickly arranged his features into a grin. “Hey!” He greeted him cheerfully, he figured he was going to have to strike first to get the upper hand here, “Great song choice, by the way, really showed off your vocal array. I suppose you’ll be entering the contest with that one, huh?” Lance was trying to apply the breaks, but he just couldn’t stop his mouth from running away from him. _Nice one, Lance. Really cool._ He was expecting a barrage of insults or snide remarks in return, but Keith just looked at him puzzled.

“Contest?” He inquired.

Once again, Lance felt thrown off balance, this guy was just way too unpredictable. He had not prepared himself for that kind of reaction and he faltered.

“Wha- uh, the, uh, contest,” he repeated, unhelpfully. His brain seemingly didn’t want to cooperate, so he pointed to a large poster on the wall. He was a little disappointed that his sarcastic comment had been lost. A sober Lance would have disagreed.

Keith focused on the colourful notice pinned to the wall advertising the up-coming competition, Lance was talking again, but Keith never heard a word. His attention was too focused on the prize. $1000. The red text along the bottom stuck out, ‘You can’t win it, if you’re not in it!’ It said.

“Yes,” Keith said.

“Umm… what- what was the question?” Lance was getting really confused now.

Keith turned back to Lance, a peculiar look on his face. Not menacing or intimidating like he’d expected, more like… clarity.

“Yes. I’m entering the contest.” _Really?!_

“O-Kay,” Lance said slowly, it was meant to be a joke, but Keith looked deadly serious.

“Are you?” He needed to know if he was his competition, after all.

“Me? Obviously!” Lance rolled his eyes like it was a question that didn’t need to be asked.

“See you there, then.” Feeling relieved that he’d managed to walk away this time without winking.

***

“You’re _what?”_ Shiro asked again in disbelief, because it sounded a lot like Keith had just said he’d entered the up-coming karaoke contest.

“Problem?” Keith asked, unsure himself if he believed he’d just gone up to Coran and filled in the form.

“Nope. None.” Shiro was sure there was going to be some interesting conversations at breakfast in the morning.

Matt was clutching his sides, lying across Shiro’s lap, convulsing with laughter. Shiro thought he’d better get these two home before the night ended badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's song was indeed Tequila by the Champs.  
> Matt quoted a poem by Edward Gorey, there's a copy of his illustration on my Tumblr, go check it out.  
> I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> Comments and kudos make me work faster!
> 
> Come and speak to me on Tumblr (crazyrandomhappenklance) I quite often post updates and hints for future chapters...


	3. Taking Your Breath, Stealing Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith are dealing with the after-effects of the night before in the Balmera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the holidays and are already enjoying the new year.  
> Thanks for sticking with me, this chapter was tough to write as it kept taking itself in different directions, so it's been rewritten a couple of times. 
> 
> Fair warning - this chapter deals quite a lot with depression and self-depreciation, so if those are triggering for you then proceed with caution. I apologise for forgetting to add them as tags from the beginning.

Their apartment was unusually quiet, considering that Lance was home. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his arms folded on the surface in front of him cradling his head with a cup of coffee in his grip; a glass of orange juice and an untouched plate of pancakes to the side.

“You know, you really should try to get something down you, it’ll make you feel better.” Although Hunk disapproved of Lance drinking to excess, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, it wasn’t in his nature to be otherwise. Every time it happened he hoped he’d learn his lesson, but yet again, Lance was suffering from his poor choices.

Lance let out a quiet noise, somewhere between a groan and a whine, but didn’t move his head. “It hurts.” He moaned, just above a whisper.

“Which is why you need to put something in your stomach.” Hunk’s voice was beginning to sound tired with exasperation. It wasn’t the first time they’d repeated this conversation this morning and it was nearly midday. “At least drink, you’re only feeling so bad because you’re dehydrated.”

Lance twisted his neck up so he was looking forward, resting his chin on his forearm and slid the mug to his lips, tipping it slightly to take a sip. His head was throbbing angrily and his stomach twisted. He really wished he’d had a glass of water before he fell asleep last night, but he’d refused the one Hunk had left at his nightstand, protesting that he didn’t need it. He cursed that his best friend knew him better than himself. Always.

Hunk had been waiting to find out how much of last night Lance could remember, but he felt making him face facts first thing was a little harsh. But now time was getting tight because he had to head off to work in an hour.

“It was a good night, last night, huh?” He approached the subject hesitantly.

Lance whimper-groaned again and slowly lifted his eyes to meet Hunks soft brown ones, noting the expression of sympathy mixed with something a little parental. He knew Hunk wasn’t judging him, but it stung his pride a bit, feeling that weight of sensibility that Hunk projected.

Earlier, when he’d woken up, weak memories from the night before had swum through his head seeping through from his dreams. Glimpses of toned abs, rolling hips, and dark, piercing eyes. Eyes that had pinned him down and stripped him of sensible thought. Eyes that were full of danger, full of mystery and a sparkle of mischief. All at once he wanted to never see those eyes again and longed for one more fix.

His muddled emotions stirred up a wave of anger inside him. Who the fuck did that guy think he was? He ignored his own misgivings; this wasn’t about him, it was about how Keith had played him. Not only that, he’d had the crowd eating out of his hand and, god damn it, that was _his_ stage and _his_ audience. He reverted back to wishing he’d never see him again when he remembered that last conversation he’d had with him by the bathroom door.

Keith was entering the contest.

Not only was he definitely going to have to face him again, but he was also going to be in competition with him. Lance played it down. He may have stolen the crowd with his moves, but at least It wasn’t like he’d out-sung him. He was still going to wipe the floor with him in that regard, right? Yeah, he had nothing to worry about, the guy was probably tone-deaf underneath all that…- he tried to think of a suitable insult but every time he considered any of his features his heart gave a flutter. He told himself that it was just a rush of anger he was feeling. Yep, anger.

Hunk waited patiently for Lance to say something, anything, to start the ball rolling, but he just stared at him. He gave up and decided he was going to have to be more direct.

“It was good to see some new singers there, it’s nice to hear some different songs for a change. It was great to see Matt and Shiro again, they’re so cute when they sing together, they’ve not been back for a while.” He decided to shoehorn in the real topic here, “their friend was pretty awesome too, right? Keith was it…?”

“Brother.”

“Huh?”

“He’s… one of them’s-“ he waved his hand in a take-your-pick fashion,  “-brother,” it dawned on him that Keith hadn’t been very specific about which of the two he’d meant and he hadn’t borne any real resemblance to either of them, “and he wasn’t _that_ good, its not like he really sang or… anything.” He finished weakly, knowing full well there had been a lot of ‘anything’. He was desperately trying to convince himself that it hadn’t been good or awesome.

Hunk chuckled, “Oh, I think it’s safe to say he can sing. You do know who he is, right?” Lance’s brow furrowed, which hurt, but he was trying to think why Hunk would think he should know him. Thinking back to last night, he remembered Hunk had said his full name – Keith Kogane – Like it meant something, and how or why would he know a random guy in the club’s full name?

“Whadaya mean?” He didn’t like the sound of this and lifted his head up further from his arm to focus better.

“You know Kral Zera, right?” There was something vaguely familiar sounding about it, but nothing came to mind.

“Nope.”

“Jeez, maybe you need to step away from Broadway from time to time,” Hunk teased, but continued, “they’re like this really big thing, they’re this electronica rock band type-thing and they’re doing really well. They’re local, but they’re really making a scene, they’ve started touring all over the state. Pidge recons they’ll get a deal soon, she was telling me the other day that there was a couple of guys in the club in suits that stood out like a sore thumb in that place, she reckoned they were scouts or something.”

Lance rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples, he wasn’t sure what Hunk was trying to tell him, he was still missing something. “I don’t understand, what has this got to do with Keith?”

“Well… he’s their singer.”

Lance’s brain hurt in a new way now. _Fuck._ He _could_ sing? His clothes and style made sense now, Lance could see. The defensive part of his brain kicked in again. It didn’t mean he was a serious threat to him in the competition, he reasoned, how hard was it to screech out some rock lyrics? Just because he sang in a band didn’t necessarily qualify him to be a good singer, like a trained singer, such as himself.  

Hunk tried to interpret the wash of expressions crossing his friend’s face, he was pretty sure in his reduced state that he wasn’t even aware he was making them, but something was clearly bothering him. “What’s up, Lance?” He asked, curiously.

“He’s signed up for the competition.” He answered with an exhale of resignation. He was trying to hide his emotions on the subject, but that was probably pointless because he knew Hunk could read him like a book.

“Oh? _O-oh!”_ The implications started to filter through. “Listen, Lance. You have nothing to worry about, you can- “

“And it’s all my fault.” He concluded. Hunk didn’t understand.

“‘Your fault’? I don’t get ya. What’s your fault?”

“I told him about the competition, he wouldn’t have known about it otherwise.”

“What? How?” Hunk understood Lance blaming himself, that was nothing new, he did it all the time and usually whatever he was berating himself for had nothing to do with him.

“I-“ Lance cut himself off, a flood of embarrassment taking his words away as his brain caught up with the confession he was about to make. Then he decided that there was no point in hiding this from Hunk, the truth would come out in the wash eventually. “I bumped into him at the bathroom,” he looked down into his coffee mug at the Luke-warm liquid that was going colder by the minute. He couldn’t look Hunk in the eye for the shame of his behaviour, “I- I may have baited him about his song?” He said with uncertainty, despite knowing full well that was exactly what he’d done.

Hunk huffed and crossed his arms as he leaned back on the kitchen counter, preparing himself for the rest of Lance’s admission. “Okay, what _exactly_ did you do?” He was well aware of Lance’s habit of getting a little too cocky and it usually ended in trouble.

“I… I couldn’t help it, Hunk!” He protested, risking looking at the bigger guy to try his best at getting him on his side and failing miserably. “He just, I dunno, wound me up, he made me so mad with that fucking smug look he kept giving me and then there was that wink- “

“Wink?”

“Yeah, there was a w-wink… never mind that!” Lance had been desperately trying to avoid thinking about that moment and Hunk had obviously missed that particular interaction, so he steered away from it, “It was like he was challenging me, so I… took the piss out of his singing and suggested he should enter the competition- I-I know what you’re going to say-“

“Do you?” Hunk asked with an air of sarcasm, “because it feels to me like every time you pull something like this you forget every conversation we’ve ever had about it!” He fisted his hands and planted them firmly on his hips. “Lance, you are a good singer, no, you are a _great_ singer and you have _nothing_ to prove. You’ve got to stop thinking that someone is going to take that away from you. Trust yourself, for god’s sake. Look at where you are. You’re always at the top, always cast the lead and you look at it like it’s some kind of mistake. You work so damn hard at it all the time and the truth? The truth is you don’t need to do a damn thing, your so _fucking_ good that everyone in our year would give an arm to have half the talent you have, so stop trying to prove your worth, because we can all see it, and, Jesus, stop challenging people over it! Have you completely forgotten about that thing with James?”

Lance hid his face; he struggled to know how to react to all that Hunk had thrown at him, he really struggled to take compliments, despite fishing for them all the time, and hunk had said much more than he could cope with. And he’d sworn, Hunk only ever swore when he was really mad or frustrated. He knew he was right, but his deep-seated insecurities wouldn’t allow him to appreciate his honesty, although he knew he could trust his best friend would only tell him the truth; Hunk was too honest to tell lies or stretch the truth. He just had a hard time excepting it and he’d been so right about the challenging people thing. He hadn’t forgotten what had happened with James and he cringed at the reminder.

“Jesus, did you need to bring that back up?” Lance looked away again trying to mask the twinge of hurt he felt, he didn’t want Hunk to feel bad for simply being honest, especially after all the compliments he’d just given him.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to.” Hunk gave him an apologetic look and tried to steer the conversation back on track to try and resolve the current issue. “Do you know what you’re going to sing for the open round of the competition yet?”

“Hmm…” Lance picked a blueberry from the side of his plate and popped it in his mouth whilst thinking, grateful for the change of subject. “I’m not sure, I’ll need to give it some careful thought, it’ll need to be good...”

“Dude, you could sing the ingredients from a pack of gum and make it sound good.” Hunk laughed.

 “Pffft, yeah, sure.” He deflected.

“Man, what am I going to do with you?” Hunk pushed off the countertop and ruffled Lance’s hair gently as he walked past on his way out the room. “Eat your pancakes.”  

***

If ever there was a sign that Keith had made poor life choices, the way he was feeling right now upon waking was it. He knew it too well. He groaned as he turned, and then pretty much regretted doing both. His head swam and felt like it was being crushed in a vice; even the sound of his own voice made it hurt. His curtains remained untouched from the night before and the light from the window was unbearable. He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt up and over his head to try and block it out. His hands dropped onto his stomach where his thumbs idly stroked his skin, perhaps to try and soothe himself awake. Everything was painful, but at least not to the point of wanting to be sick. There was something perversely reassuring about the feeling of a hangover for him, like spending time with an old friend.

Guilt.

The emotion flooded into his senses. He’d promised Shiro that he wasn’t ever going to be that person again and he didn’t want to let him down; he couldn’t let him down. He remembered back then when he’d almost broken his brother and he couldn’t put him through that again. As much as they loved each other, it had been a threat to their relationship and Keith couldn’t risk that again. He didn’t know what he’d do without him.

With a twist of anger, he rolled so he was face-down on the bed and brought his knees up to his chest, tucking them in tight underneath himself. His balled fists pushed into his temples and he fought the emotions that were beginning to wake up inside himself.

Hate. Hate.

How could he have let himself slip back so easily? He had thought that enough time and abstinence had gone by. He had thought that he was in control of his past demons. He was sure that Shiro’s presence would have been enough to reign him in or at least be his conscience for the evening; telling him to stop when he knew he’d had too much. He trusted Shiro with so much of himself, so much that it really wasn’t fair to expect anything of the man, and he twisted with a new agony.

Shame. Overwhelming shame.

He never wanted to be like this. Everything he’d learned after his parents’ death, every foster home he’d been placed in, every change of neighbourhood and school had told him not to trust other people. Other people wouldn’t understand. Other people would eventually leave him. Other people would just let him down. He learned not to rely on anyone else except himself.  The only trouble with that was, as it turned out, he wasn’t that reliable either. He’d spent most of his life letting himself down and it would seem like he still was.

Anger, detachment, loneliness.

Anger made him push against anything that seemed like kindness.

Detachment made him not care about his actions, because he couldn’t hurt anyone if there was no one invested in him.

Loneliness made him seek out the company of anyone who would suffer to be around someone as broken as he felt, and more often than not those kinds of kids were far from positive influences on him. The anger preventing any of those he associated with becoming attachments, and the vicious cycle returned back to loneliness.

For years he had let those three things control him, believing that he was looking after himself by putting a distance between himself and anything that could hurt him. If he didn’t hurt, then he was okay.

And there it was. He’d been waiting for its presence to appear from the minute he’d become conscious. The first black tendrils creeping in over his thoughts, bringing a weight to his body and his soul. He knew he shouldn’t drink, for so many reasons, but triggering his depression was a big one. The delicate shield he held around himself began to lower and a pain unrelated to his pitiful hangover began to twist in his stomach.

_Fight it, fight it…_

The silence in his head was deafening. No brain tracks. No words. No beat. Just silence. They didn’t come when his head was suppressed like this. Usually, he found them invasive; unwanted, but god, he’d rather have them than silence. Anything but silence. Silence let his thoughts in. The silence made his thoughts heard. Silence was painful too.

The tears slipped from his eyes, making their way down his nose, where they disappeared into the fabric of his pillow. The breath he’d been holding in an attempt to stop the tears came out in a long, ragged cry, too muffled to be heard had anyone been in the room. Waves of negativity crashed over him, he struggled to breathe, unable to control his body; his thoughts.

Despair.

That feeling that there would be no end to this pain. Just blackness. Sinking. Suffocating. Blinding. Filling every corner of his thoughts. Swelling. Making him feel like he would burst. Possessing. There would be no escape from the pressure, pushing from the inside. No escape.

 A tear splashed on his thigh, he didn’t even remember sitting up. He belatedly realized that he wasn’t wearing anything below except for his boxer shorts, Shiro must’ve undressed him before putting him to bed. His throat clenched and swallowed down another sob. He didn’t deserve him. How could someone put up with all the shit he had given him and still care so much?  Why…?

Dark thoughts.

Darkness.

Downward spiralling. Down. Down. Down.

Black.

The sound of the front door banging shut jarred him from his morose reverie. His phone jumped from his hand and clattered to the floor. When had he picked that up? He blinked and panicked, not wanting to be found in such a state. He could hear Shiro whistling down the hall. He shot forward to pick his phone up off the floor. Forgetting about his hangover, his head spun at the sudden movement and he lost his balance, landing heavily on his knees, momentum carrying the rest of his body forward, slamming his upper arm into the carpet causing a friction burn to his shoulder. He winced and he was reminded of the pain in his head again.

There was a gentle rap at his door. “Hey, sleeping beauty, you okay?” He didn’t sound overly concerned, but he must have heard the thump and known he was awake. And he was awake now, wide awake. He felt like he’d been doused with cold water and shook at the thought of the dark place he’d been moments before. The sheets tangled around his limbs making his movements restricted. He fumbled until he found his phone, checking the screen was okay, which thankfully it was. He wiped his face on the sheet and sniffed hard, wincing as he realized how audible the noise was.

He quickly replied in the hopes it would distract Shiro if he’d heard. “I- I'm fine!” He responded a little too enthusiastically, “I mean, I feel like shit, but I’ll be fine.” He called to the man, who remained respectfully on the other side of the door. He winced as the pain from the noise of is voice coursed through is head.

Shiro huffed a short laugh, “Okay, Matt left you some pancakes, they’re in the kitchen when you’re ready for them. I’m about to make another pot of coffee, you want some?”

Matt stayed over? Shit, it took him a lot to have memory loss, how much had he drunk last night, exactly? Shiro seemed to be okay, they were drinking the same amount, round for round, so how was he so much worse for wear?

_Shots. Shit._

The memories started creeping back now. He had volunteered to go to the bar almost every round after… after… -singing? – shit, yep, that had happened. He’d ordered a couple of shots -maybe more than a couple- with each visit and downed them before returning to the table. Congratulations, Keith, you’re an idiot.

“Em, yeah, that would be great, thanks, Shiro, better make it strong enough to chew.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His head throbbed from talking.

It sounded so weak, just to say thanks. It wasn’t enough, but he had nothing else to offer. Why couldn’t he be like Shiro or Matt? Thoughtful of other people’s needs. Giving, not taking? His head was still shrouded in blackness, but he forced himself to get up and sat heavily on the bed again, then realizing his phone was dead, he plugged it into the charger on his nightstand. He eyed the full glass of water beside the phone, no doubt Shiro had brought it for him last night, and no doubt he had refused, thinking he wasn’t that bad, not for the first time.

Suddenly acutely aware of how dry and rough his throat was, he picked up the glass and tentatively sipped at the stale water, feeling partially relieved. He winced, realizing the damage he must have done from singing at the karaoke, but somehow that didn’t add up. He remembered the only song he’d gone up to sing was ‘Tequila’, not exactly a strain on his vocal cords, he thought with amusement. Then…

A flashback of a conversation went through his groggy thoughts. A tall boy with blue eyes and golden-brown skin; a mocking, yet pretty smile; chestnut hair that looked messy, but had probably had a lot of care poured on it… he sure could remember an odd amount of detail about this stranger.

_Lance._

The name formed in his head as the details started coming back to him. Lance that had intimidated him. Lance that _he’d_ intimidated. Lance that he’d kept running into, despite trying to avoid. Lance that had treated him with contempt and goaded him into singing. Lance that clearly thought of him as a joke and challenged him to compete in the… karaoke contest.

_Shit._

_What the fuck?_

_Money._

That was it, money. There was nothing else that would have ever motivated him to do something like enter a karaoke contest. He remembered feeling so determined when he’d filled in the entry form. He’d paid the entry fee. The twist in his stomach tightened a little more.

He gathered a sheet off the bed and threw it around his shoulders. Clutching it tightly to his chest, he slowly but steadily lifted himself up. On the way to the door, he stopped in front of his full-length mirror, staring at his reflection, looking himself in the eye. He stared himself down, challenging the boy he saw there to get it together; push those dark thoughts away. He felt a mess, but his eye make-up was somehow still perfect, it was almost too good a metaphor. He made his way gingerly to the kitchen.

He ignored the fact that he had no inclination to make a bathroom stop first, obviously too dehydrated for a normal morning routine. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and flopped into it. The combined noise from the coffee machine, the radio and Shiro humming made him prop his head up on his hands with his elbows on the table, hands covering his ears to cushion the effect it was having on his brain. There was a plate of pancakes in the middle of the table, and although they looked and smelled delicious, he wasn’t ready for them just yet. He regarded the blueberries on the side. Matt knew that blueberry pancakes were his favourite. He would need to thank Matt later for the thought. Something inside his chest hurt at the thoughtfulness that he didn’t deserve.

Shiro slid a fresh mug of coffee under Keith’s nose and pointed to it. “I’m guessing you really need this, huh?” His eyebrow lifted as he leaned back on the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. Keith looked away from his brother’s knowing glare. He didn’t look angry, more annoyance mixed with frustration and concern.

A fresh wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Keith said nothing and lifted the mug to his lips to take some small sips, he desperately wanted to just down it in one go, but it was still way too hot. He could feel Shiro’s eyes boring into him, waiting for him to say something. He realized an apology was warranted at least; he should start with that.

He slowly put the mug back down on the table and let out a resigning sigh. He stared at the dark liquid; he didn’t understand why he found it so hard to say sorry. Admitting he was wrong was probably a large part of it, something he also struggled to do. “I,” his voice was raspy and not ready to be used yet, but he cleared his throat and carried on, “I’m really sorry, Shiro.”

There was a silence that followed like Keith was waiting for Shiro’s response and Shiro was waiting for more. Keith looked up at the other again, realizing that he couldn’t avoid eye contact with him any longer.

“I thought I could trust you, Keith.” He dropped his arms, placing the heals of his hands on the edge of countertop either side of his hips. Keith noted the remnants of sweat marks on his jogging top and wondered how anyone could go for a jog first thing after a night out. Shiro leaned forward looking expectantly at his brother for some kind of explanation or justification.

Keith swallowed. What was the reason? Shiro seemed to read his mind.

“Shots, though? Why?”

Keith looked back down at his coffee, wishing it would cool quicker. ‘Why’ was a good question. He wondered at what point Shiro had worked it out. He gave a pathetic shrug, not daring to look back up yet.

“Okay, I’m going to need something a bit more than that.” His voice sounded impatient now. “Let’s start with Lance; what was all _that_ about?”

_Shit._

“Lance? Who’s Lance?” Keith tried. His nonchalant face might have worked, but the red creeping up his neck gave him away.

Shiro’s eyes narrowed. “So, you don’t remember _anything_?” Keith flinched at his change of tone, he was challenging him, daring him to ‘not remember’, because if he claimed he didn’t, Shiro was going to drag him over the coals with every detail that he remembered, and Shiro forgot nothing.

“L- Lance? Was he the annoying one with the theatrical god complex?” He would have rolled his eyes but he knew it would hurt too much. He sipped his coffee to mask his smirk. He didn’t expect Shiro to appreciate his salty humour, but he heard the taller man huff a laugh. It _was_ a fair description, he’d thought.

“Yes, _that_ Lance. Do you… know him?”

Keith shook his head, wincing at the stab of pain it caused. He understood where Shiro was going with his thoughts, but that was far behind him now. A new emotion joined the oppressive dark cloud that hung over his thoughts; bitterness.

“But something was going on between you two last night, right?” Shiro prompted.

Keith groaned, folding his arms across the table in front of him and resting his forehead on them like a pillow. He could sense there was no getting out of this until Shiro had picked the entire night to pieces and laid it out before Keith to see. He decided to get it all out and done with quickly, so he could just crawl back to bed and die.

“I’m not even sure what happened, he just… really pissed me off, then, I guess, I might have pissed him off…” Shiro snorted a short laugh, Keith glared at him, “what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking things are going to get really awkward the next time Matt pisses you off if that’s how you’re going to react from now on…” he pursed his lips to stop more laughter from escaping.

Keith cringed, his face was still buried in his arms so thankfully Shiro couldn’t read his face.

Tequila.

The memories were sluggishly crawling back to him now, but he was beginning to wish they’d stay put in whatever hidden recess of his brain they’d been hiding in.

Tequila. It had meant to be a joke. The memory was coming back thick and fast now. Behind his closed eyes he could see the people around the club in front of him from where he’d stood on the stage, the bright lights making it hard for him to see any but the closest of tables clearly. He remembered laughing to himself as the music had begun, enjoying his own joke, but then when the joke had faded, the music had taken hold of him and he was in thrall to his instinct to perform.

The sensation of having all those eyes watching him, anticipating, it did something to him and, although he wasn’t with his band and it hadn’t been his territory, the impulse to be his other self broke through and the buzz of alcohol took away his inhibitions. Thankfully, a small part of his conscience had reminded him that this wasn’t one of his usual gigs and he’d managed to keep it PG-13, just, however, that hadn’t stopped him from turning up the heat. Another part of his brain had considered it a good opportunity to exact revenge on Lance for making him feel so uncomfortable; an eye for an eye, and all that.

He remembered dancing. Keeping it minimal for maximum impact; less is more. He remembered feeling so smug, only deciding his intentions just as the music changed before his ‘line’. He had fired up the heat and intensity behind his eyes and with perfect timing, he had unleashed a look that was designed to disarm, disable and incinerate the boy he’d locked eyes with; dropping his voice to a sultry purr. Lance had received it, unblinking and motionless, except for the almost imperceptible widening of his eyes and the bob of his throat. Before Keith could give him the pleasure of any kind of two-way communication, he had turned his head, because, although he would deny it, Lance’s reaction had stirred something inside him; he was drunk, he had had to remind himself.

The second time he knew his line was coming up he knew for certain what he was doing, well, within the constraints of his alcohol-infused rationale that was. He gave it his all, half expecting Lance to be avoiding him at this point, but with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction he’d turned and repeated his assault, to see Lance’s face awestruck and totally absorbed, encouraging Keith to look away sharply again and give him a show; just a hint, a tease. He’d had to bite his lip to control the giddy laughter that was bubbling up inside himself.

Next, he remembered the song ending and wanting to see the results of his work displayed across Lance’s face, he remembered turning to look at him as he passed his table, thinking how sweet the victory was and, wishing to convey the smugness of his supremacy, he’d winked.

If his head could have sunk any further into his arms it would have done. Somehow, at the time, he’d forgotten that his brother had played witness to all of this too. His face burned.  

Shiro was sensing Keith overthinking things; perhaps he was suffering enough on his own this time for him to not need to push it any further this time. He decided to change the topic and broke him from his thoughts. “So, you’ve entered the karaoke contest?” He hoped he remembered that part. 

Keith’s groan was more pained this time. The whole nonsense with Lance could have been forgotten about and never brought up again, safe in the knowledge that he’d never have to see him again, but he’d just realized that that wasn’t going to be possible now. He was a little bit grateful for the way things had played out last night because he wouldn’t have ever known about or considered entering the karaoke contest if Lance hadn’t brought it up. He’d considered it easy money at the time, a well-needed solution to his current problem. Keith had often thought fate if there was such a thing, was a negative force, but perhaps for once, it was leading him towards a brighter outlook. He refused to get his hopes up, but he was at least confident of his chances.

Keith sat back up, needing to drink his coffee now that enough time had passed for it to have sufficiently cooled. He took a couple of gulps, feeling relief, but not wishing to rush it. “I thought it would be an easy way to get some more cash, you know, for… my savings.” He looked at Shiro cautious with both his words and expressions.

“I may have said this before, but getting a job would be easier,” Shiro joked, but he anticipated his little brother’s reaction already.

“Shiro, you know I don’t do people.” He scowled across the mug cupped in his hands.

There was a long silence before either of them spoke again. Keith decided he had enough coffee in his stomach to be able to eat without any adverse effects, so he began picking at the pancakes. God did he need the sugar.

Shiro fiddled with the packaging of the blueberries as he went to move them from the table to put them back in the fridge. This was the subject that he was dreading bringing up, but he couldn’t avoid it. “Keith, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

It was said too quickly and with too much confidence. Shiro saw right through it and Keith knew he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. The average person tells 1.65 lies a day and the most common is ‘I’m fine’, so Keith didn’t feel so different from everyone else if he stuck to this one.

Shiro straightened and fixed him with a stare. “Look me in the eye, say that again.” His look said, ‘don’t fuck with me’, but there was a softness there and a twitch of his lip that Keith knew was his way of trying to ease a bit of humour into what was going to be a painful chat.

Keith choked a laugh through a mouthful of pancakes. “Placebo? That’s a new one for you.”

“It’s hard for me to ignore your music when you play it so loud.” He threw in a ‘dad’ look, to go with the comment. “Anyway, I know ‘fine’ isn’t the real answer. You need to talk to me, Keith. You know where this goes if you don’t speak to me. For god’s sake, I’m your brother, I can’t help you if you won’t- “

“Okay, okay!” He threw up his hands defensively. Shiro’s voice was starting to strain with emotion and Keith couldn’t handle it, even less so right now. The problem was he wasn’t able to think up a lie on the spot and he couldn’t tell him the real reason why he’d drank too much last night. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t relapse though, as long as he could admit to feeling vulnerable and persuade his brother to stick around for the rest of the day.

Too much time had passed; he was acutely aware that Shiro was still waiting for him to say something. He let go of a deep breath.

“There’s nothing in particular, this time,” he lied, “I’m just…” he shrugged, tapping his fork on the last piece of pancake, “It’s just an anything-and-everything kinda thing, you know?”

“You sure? How are you feeling now?”

“A little embarrassed that you had to carry me home, but I’ll mend.’

“Oh, I didn’t need to carry you home” Shiro chuckled a little.

Keith was confused by that. “You didn’t?”

“Nope! You insisted on dancing all the way home” the grin on Shiro’s face stretched from ear to ear.

“I did what, now?”

“And sang, we couldn’t get you to shut up, it was like you were twelve again! I’ve not heard you sing that much since-“ Shiro stopped himself from finishing that sentence, not wanting to open up old wounds in Keith’s already delicate mood.

“It’s okay Shiro, you can say it- since I fucked up.”

“That’s not what I meant, you know how I feel- “

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.” He felt the darkness creeping back in again. “Hey, are you free for the rest of the day? I think I really need to kick back and I’m in a gaming mood, fancy getting your ass whipped with some Tekken Tag?”

Shiro laughed, “As long as you know it’ll be you that’s getting the beating, sure, I’ve nothing on.”

Keith stood up and put the empty mug and plate in the sink. He grinned at the challenge, “You’re on. I need to go take a shower first though.”

“That’s… probably something I should do too, I’ll wait until your done though.” Keith made his way towards the door but paused when Shiro called him. “Keith, you okay now?”

He grinned, feeling a tiny bit lighter in his mood now. “Five by five.”

He padded back to his room and flopped onto the bed, picking up his phone from the nightstand to check the time. The notification light was blinking so he swiped the screen to read the message. He sat bolt upright, a sudden surge of fear coursing through him.

His hand shook as his thumb slid along the three picture messages on the screen one at a time.

The first was a photo of him, Shiro and Matt, sitting at the table they’d occupied last night, taken from what would have been halfway across the room.

The second was a picture of him and Lance, leaning back against the bar, their postures mirroring each other making them look way more familiar than what they were.

The third was a picture of him singing up on the stage. Under the pictures was a text that filled him with terror.

{New Contact} **Enough money to enjoy yourself I see. You’ve one week, half of what you owe or else. You know I’m being generous.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun! hahaha! I've not finished on a cliff-hanger before and now I feel evil!
> 
> I feel so sad there was no music in this chapter, just Shiro's wee quote from Placebo's "Begin the End" and the chapter title which is from The Greatest Showman, "The Greatest Show". Oh! yes, I forgot , there was a reference from Waitress, "Opening up"  
> and a Buffy TVS reference in there also :)  
> the whole Keith/Shiro part was written to Placebo's "Bosco", which almost word for word explains Keith's feelings through this chapter and had a major influence on this fic. GO LISTEN TO IT!!
> 
> For frequent updates, my current Brain Tracks™ and other Klance stuff come and chat with me on Tumblr (crazyrandomhappenklance). Let me know what you think!


	4. To Us and Our Good Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brogane angst and love <3  
> Monday morning and it’s back to the grind. Lance and Keith both have challenges to face.  
> Pidge is a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thanks to everyone who has been following this adventure so far and given it so much love!  
> Thank you for being patient while I’ve been trying to actually give this story some kind of framework, I know how frustrating it is to wait on an update, but I hope it’s been worth it, it has been for me! Depending on life circumstances and creative mood, it shouldn’t be as long a wait in between chapters from now on.

Shiro heard Keith rush into the bathroom, slamming the door in his wake. It was followed by the sound of violent upheaving into the toilet and his heart sank at the all too familiar noise.

Now he felt guilty for not having kept a closer eye on Keith the night before. He had figured he could relax a bit more with him now that the worst of what he’d been through with him was over.

He’d come so far from that night when he’d turned up at his door unannounced nine months ago. Unkempt with heavy bags under his eyes, his spirit so broken and defeated he was almost unrecognisable from the fearsome, energetic and unstoppable kid he’d waved off at the beginning of the new academic year.

Whatever had happened, whatever had changed, Shiro never fully found out. Initially, Keith had locked himself away and never offered any explanation. There were the odd, awkward moments when they found themselves sharing the same space, usually when Keith was looking for more pain relief for his headaches or to grab some food that he would squirrel away into his room.

He’d looked pale, extra pale, and for the first week, the worst week, he was shaky and had mood swings that were violent enough to give whiplash. Shiro felt helpless and had tried to suggest he should see a doctor, but Keith just got snappy and said he was fine and he was dealing with it.

Night after night he heard Keith crying out in his sleep, followed by the inevitable hours of pacing and shuffling around the apartment. Fatigue followed by nightmares followed by insomnia.

Shiro had tried, really tried, but Keith was so locked down he couldn’t get through to him, leading to the point where Shiro felt such resentment at the rejection of his help that it began to fracture their relationship.

It also hadn’t gone unnoticed that Keith had turned up that night with just his rucksack of clothes and a box of his small possessions tucked under his arm. No explanation as to where his most precious possessions were, namely his guitar and his car. Bringing it up had only sent Keith into an emotional rage where he’d told Shiro to stay out of his business, so he’d let it go in the hopes that eventually he would open up about the whole thing, but nine months had passed and he was still in the dark.

Eventually, two and a half weeks after he had returned, things took a turn. He wasn’t sure exactly where the idea had come from, but he’d figured it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

Shiro had remembered a song from their past that Keith had once played on repeat for days, to the point that he knew all the words too. He’d learned to play it on the guitar too. He kind of understood why Keith had such an attachment to it; the lyrics no doubt spoke to him on a personal level. It found its way into Shiro’s heart too, and he thought he’d give it a shot. He had nothing to lose at this point.

He set it up on his phone through the speakers in the kitchen, the volume set loud enough for Keith to hear it through the hallway. He sat at the table as the gentle melody carried through the air.

Midway through the song, he heard the handle of Keith’s door turn. Keith slowly made his way towards the source of the music then stood leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen. He met Shiro’s eyes for the first time in weeks, holding a pitiful look of regret and shame. The song seemed to wrap around them. Keith lifted his head to the ceiling letting out a shaky breath and Shiro saw the glisten of tears in his eyes. Without speaking he stood and wrapped his little brother up in his arms, holding him tight, resting his cheek on the top of his head, holding the pieces of him together. They both stood wordless like that for a long time. Keith broke down into Shiro’s shoulder, the lyrics of the song binding them long after it had faded into silence.

After that, things became a lot easier. Keith gave as much as to say that he’d not been coping at college and what had started off as social drinking had turned into something out of his control. Shiro suspected there was more to it than that but didn’t push it. He was just happy to have his kid brother back again.

Slowly, Keith’s health improved. Shiro insisted that he come with him every day to the gym where he worked and convinced him to follow a healthier diet. Finding himself now without a purpose or direction, Keith let Shiro help him heal. The more his body improved the more he felt better about himself and this quickly became his main focus.

Shiro observed, but never questioned the changes that came about Keith after his return. He grew his hair out to his shoulders, lost anything that resembled colour from his wardrobe and wouldn’t leave the house without his daily application of heavy eyeliner. It was different, very different, but he conceded that it was actually a good look on him. Well, Keith was naturally pretty anyway, regardless of what style he chose to wear.

Over the next few months, Keith’s daily work-outs began to sculpt his body from his previously slender frame to a well-defined muscular form, still lithe, but with curves and lines that hadn’t been there before.

Shiro suggested he could get a job at the gym too, but Keith just couldn’t bring himself to deal with people.

Progress seemed to continue when Keith revealed he had reluctantly been ambushed into a conversation at the gym by one of the regulars. Somehow the conversation had turned to Keith singing and, bafflingly, he’d agreed to audition to sing in his band. Without question, they had accepted him and rehearsals became a three-times a week thing. Before long, they had gigs booked and Keith seemed genuinely happy, although Shiro knew that he still harboured a deep regret at dropping out of college, he knew he was back on track doing something that he loved.

“I’m going for a run,” Keith called from the front door, breaking Shiro’s thoughts. He didn’t have time to reply, the door had already shut.

 ***

Keith’s feet pounded the path that ran through the park, crunching slightly on the packed dirt.

**_[…You've never been this lonely…]_ **

The light drizzle of rain made his hair stick to his face, larger drops from the tree canopy above occasionally smacking into his bare arms and tank top. He felt none of it though, his emotions congested with the rising panic of what to do. A brain track started to crackle into his head like a slightly tuned out radio station.

**_[…Well, I've never been this down before and it shows…]_ **

He needed money. Despite his attempts at running away and hiding, they’d managed to track him down and he had no other options left but to face the consequences of his actions.

**_[…Killing me so gently…]_ **

He would need to bite the bullet and get a job.

**_[…Choking me so slowly…]_ **

He had managed to put aside a small amount of money from his measly earnings from the band, always knowing that the day might come when he’d need to settle the score, but he had hoped for more time and it was nowhere near enough.

**_[…'Cause you can be so cruel_ **

**_And that's all I've ever known…]_ **

He really couldn’t face the intimacy of working in the gym like Shiro had wanted him to do, but he remembered him saying that the club that Pidge worked at was short-handed. There was a certain comfort in the familiarity of that place because it was a venue his band played frequently.

 

**_[…Cruel world…]_ **

Perhaps he’d go and speak to Pidge tomorrow.

 ***

_“…If I'm not feeling weird or super strange, My life would be in utter disarray, 'Cause freaking out is my okay…”_

Lance sang as he walked beside Hunk along the path up towards the main buildings of their campus. He was half hopping, bouncing on the balls of his feet. A couple of girls passed them and giggled at his amusing behaviour. He smiled at them and turned to walk backwards, calling after them,

_“Good morning, time to start the day! C-c-c c'mon, c-c-c c'mon. Go! Go! C-c-c c'mon, c-c-c c'mon. Go! Go!...”_

Hunk pulled him by his upper arm to steer him back to walking in the right direction, shaking his head and smiling at his friend. They were almost at the entrance of the building that housed Lance’s first class.

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy. He’ll say a few things, throw a few looks, the usual. But you are strong and you’re going to blank him and pretend you never heard. Or saw. He only does it to get a rise out of you, so don’t-” Lance was starting to pout, “ _Don’t_ give him the satisfaction.” They paused, Hunk was still gripping his arm, but it was reassuring now.

Lance took a deep breath in and nodded before turning and walking towards the row of double doors. “I’ll see you at the benches for lunch.” He called and Lance spun around and flashed him a smile, not one of his naturally dazzling ones, but one that showed he was trying his best. He gave him a quick thumbs up and they each headed off to their classes.

Lance had been psyching himself up for the day ahead, more specifically the morning ahead, like he’d had to do every Monday morning since the new term had started. Since _Lotor_ had started. Monday mornings always came around too soon for Lance regardless, but it hit doubly hard when he’d lost a day wallowing in self-pity. The residual feelings from the day before were still lingering, knocking his self-confidence a little more off than usual.

Lotor, ugh! The bane of Lance’s existence, the thorn in his side.

Everything had been fine until _he_ had transferred to Altea from the west coast. From their first class together Lotor had made it his job to pick on Lance and undermine him at every available opportunity. He was a good actor with a strong voice and a natural ability for dance, so obviously, Lance had felt a slight compulsion to prove himself, well, okay, it was a huge compulsion, but he tried to keep it reigned in. Hunk had helped reassure him that he was doing a good job at not rising to the bait, but Lotor had seen through the cracks, and like every bully, once his weakness was exposed he did his best to draw on it and make him suffer.

Truth be known, Lotor wasn’t that bothered about getting the lead parts, because it meant extra work and effort, and Lotor was not all about that. Seeing the way he affected Lance and tormenting him though was just too much entertainment to pass up and it was so easy.

Lance tossed his bag down and tucked himself into the corner of the studio. It warred with his usual out-going personality, but now he did his best to try and blend into the background and avoid the attention of Lotor and the goons he’d managed to attract around himself. He busied himself with a book of poems by Norman MacCaig until the class was ready to start, although he struggled to read it without his glasses, he hadn’t brought them to class for a while, reluctant to give Lotor any more ammunition against him.

His drama tutor entered the room and he tucked the book into his back pocket. The hum of chatter settled into silence while the woman in her late forties stood to wait for everyone’s attention.

“Okay!” She started brightly, clapping her hands together, “good morning, folks. Glad to see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed…” she swept her eyes around the group and a few students huffed quiet laughs at the obvious sarcasm, but everyone was focused on her, “So, today we are going to be looking at our showcase musical – and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you all how much of your final mark this will count towards – and this year the musical will be… Drumroll, please?”. The students all started eagerly drumming on the nearest surface, “Dear Evan Hansen!”

There was an array of reactions around the room. Whoops, cheers and hissed yeses, fist-bumps and high-fives, and although Lance was practically bursting to join in the elation, he contained his reaction to a smile which he directed at the floor. There was no need to look across the room to know that Lotor would be staring straight at him, already wanting to intimidate him with a challenging smirk.

The rest of the class flew by. Lance found it hard to focus on anything that happened after the announcement. He felt a rising anxiety building in his chest. What the hell was he going to do? He had to get the lead, this was too important and Lance felt like he was _born_ to play Evan Hansen. There was a reason it was first on his Spotify ‘Your Heavy Rotation’ list, but standing in his way of the end of year showcase lead for the first time would be Lotor.

There really was nothing else for it; he’d just have to get his audition perfect, flawless even. He’d just need to rehearse like he’d never rehearsed before in his life.

He had two weeks. 

***

Pidge was already sat on one of the faded but comfy sofas along the back wall of the coffee shop when Keith arrived. Her small frame was folded up with her knees almost at her chin, glasses perched on top of her head partially hidden by her short hair that was just a shade darker than strawberry blonde. She held her mobile six inches from her nose, deep in concentration, mouthing the words to the song she was listening to through her earbuds. Not for the first time, Keith wondered how she could read and sing along to lyrics simultaneously. He flopped into the space beside her and waved to get her attention.

“Hey,” she smiled, shutting off the screen, pulling the wires by her cheeks and repositioning her glasses on her nose.

“Hey,” Keith returned, turning his body to rest his back against the arm and drawing his knee up to lay his leg on the seat.

 

“I got you a coffee already,” she pointed to the mug that sat beside hers on the table in front of them, “A black eye with soy and a shot of cinnamon, am I right?”

“Um, yeah,” Keith was impressed that she remembered, or perhaps it was just that his choice was unique enough not to forget. “Thanks.” He lifted it and brought it into himself, wrapping his fingers around it to warm his chilled hands.

“So, how’ve you been?” The cadence of her voice was bright and cheerful with genuine interest that made Keith feel special for a moment before he felt somewhat guilty that he hadn’t really done anything to earn that level of investment. That was how friends spoke to each other and Pidge… well, she was just his brother’s boyfriend’s sister, right? He shifted his body uncomfortably in the seat.

Pidge picked up on his behaviour, “Hey, if you don’t want to talk about things, you know that’s fine with me,” she gave him a quick sympathetic look with a shrug and Keith realised there had been a bit of a misunderstanding.

“No, no!” He quickly corrected, “it’s fine, I’m fine,” there he goes with that lie again, but something about the way Pidge always accepted his moods made him feel encouraged enough to divulge more than he would with anyone else, “Well, actually, I was a little bit off yesterday _,_ ” _that was an understatement_ , “and I’m perhaps still feeling a bit off today too,” Pidge stopped him with a smirk.

“Aah! Hangover?” She questioned with a glint in her eye. “Matt told me _everything,”_ she chuckled mischievously.

Keith’s shoulders slumped. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, but not so quietly that Pidge couldn’t hear and she erupted into cackles of laughter.

“Aw, don’t be like that, it sounded like you had fun!” Keith panicked a bit at that, what part of the night had Matt described as ‘fun’?

“So, um, what… what did he tell you, exactly?” Keith braced himself.

“That you nearly got yourself reported for breach of the peace singing your way home,” she teased. Keith relaxed a little, and took a sip of his coffee, “ _and_ he told me all about you and Lance McClain eye-fucking each other all night.” 

Keith choked on his coffee, spluttering it unbecomingly down his T-shirt, reminiscent of that very night. Pidge tossed the handful of napkins from the table into his lap, laughing, but slightly concerned for his wellbeing. He placed his coffee on the table and made a mental note to stop drinking in the company of others. He also made a note to slip laxatives into Matt’s coffee the next time he was round.

“We were _not…_ I _didn’t_ …” he hissed angrily, dabbing at his top and trying to find the right words to kill any misconstruction, despite still being a little confused himself.

“Really?” Pidge quirked an eyebrow, “Because, you know, he’s a pretty good looking guy, and you’re gay, and he’s bi…” she shrugged, “just saying…” she grinned, sipping carefully at her drink, peering over the top to carefully judge his reactions.

“Pfft! The guy’s a class A, egotistical dick!” He glanced up at Pidge, the memory of the two words ‘LIKES KLAINE’ that were seared to the back of his thoughts like a brand almost made him subconsciously smile. Almost. His regular tight frown remained intact. “besides, he’s not my type.” It was one thing to make assumptions about someone and another to have them confirmed.

Keith felt his heart stop for a second, pausing his actions. “Wait… you know him?” His hands fell loosely into his lap, unsure about what part of the conversation should be more important. _Pidge knowing Lance,_ he told himself, _definitely Pidge knowing Lance._

“Sure I do. You know Hunk, the guy I’m at college with?” Keith nodded in recognition of the name, she had talked a lot about the projects they were working on together and they seemed to have grown quite close. “Well, they’re roommates.” Pidge bit her bottom lip at the urge to whisper _‘Oh my god! They’re roommates!’,_ knowing how that joke would fall flat at Keith’s feet. She cut him some slack, though. She appreciated that he had grown up in an environment where internet memes were perhaps a) something that ranked pretty low in terms of importance, and b) something that might not have been available to him in the first place.

Keith looked like he was still processing and the stretch of silence was just too much for her, she released her lip as the words ghosted from between them, _“Oh my god! They’re roommates!”_

“What?”

“Nothing! Sorry, it’s nothing.” She hid her pursed grin behind her mug. Keith rolled his eyes, knowing that it was something, but probably at his expense.

“So, anyway,” she jumpstarted the conversation again, “He also said that you entered the Balmera karaoke contest?” Pidge felt like she was walking on eggshells, but needed to bring it up, she had questions.

Keith sighed hard, his shoulders slumped again. In light of the messages he’d received yesterday, he’d actually almost forgotten about it. “I’m in it for the money, nothing else.”

Pidge tilted her head curiously, the tone of his voice attracting her attention more than his explanation. He curled in on himself a little, starting to feel a bit exposed. He had forgotten just how smart Pidge was and perhaps he was already saying more than he should.

“What do you need the money for, Keith?” Smart and brutally direct.

He knew his words were under scrutiny now, so tried to stick to the carefully polished lie he’d been practising for months.

“I’m saving up for my own place. You know, sooner or later Shiro and Matt will want their own place- “

“Bull shit.” Keith halted with Pidge’s sudden interruption.

“‘Scuse me?”

“That’s a load of crap. Matt and Shiro have been seeing each other for two years, four months and twenty…” she glanced at the date on her phone, “four days,”

“Wow, you’ve been keeping count?”

“I have a mathematical brain, I don’t need to keep count.” She looked at him expressionlessly, then carried on where she’d left off, “Anyway, my point is, if they’d wanted to get their own place together they’d have done it already. Even if they did, they’d have a place there for you. Shiro may not be blood, but he loves you and would never abandon you for anyone. Not even my pain in the ass brother.” She shot him a quick smile, “I know it, you know it, so I’m calling bull shit. What’s the money really for, Keith?”

Keith swallowed thickly. He felt called out, her use of the word ‘abandon’ had hit a raw nerve too. Pidge stared him down hard, waiting for his answer. What could he tell her? Not another lie, obviously that was pointless, but he couldn’t tell her everything.

“I owe someone money,” he couldn’t believe he was actually telling someone this, but Pidge looked like she was believing him this time. “I kinda need to pay them back soon, so I thought the prize money would help.”

“Help? The prize money is a thousand dollars, how much do you owe?”

He began cautiously, “Well, more than that,” Pidge rolled her eyes as if to say ‘duh’, “but I’ve already got some savings put aside and I thought I could get a job to help make up the rest, which is kinda why I wanted to speak to you. Shiro mentioned that you were short-handed at the Electric and I wondered if they were looking for staff. I’ve got plenty of bar experience…” he trailed off looking hopefully at Pidge.

Pidge’s expression softened, but disappointingly it turned to one of sympathy, “Oh, man! They just took on a bunch of people last night, sorry.” Keith’s face fell. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been pinning his hopes on a job at the Electric - an old converted playhouse which was actually called The Electric Mayhem, but the locals just referred to it as the Electric.

“Wait!” Pidge looked excited, but then stopped to think, “how much bar experience do you have? What type?”

Keith regarded her cautiously, “Two years. One year regular bar work, then I got a job at a cocktail bar where I was trained as a flairman.” Keith felt his face flush at how casually he’d divulged this little-known piece of information from his past. Pidge stared at him in surprise and he simply shrugged.

“Keith Kogane, you are one dark horse.” She whispered under her breath, almost to her self. She suddenly broke away from looking at him and snatched up her phone. Quickly tapping her thumbs across the screen.

“What… what’re you doing?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“Hopefully getting you some employment.” She muttered while staring at the screen, waiting for a response. He felt uneasy. He’d managed to build himself up mentally to the point where he’d convinced himself he’d be alright working at the Electric, somewhere that was familiar but was panicking at the thought of Pidge setting him up for work in a place he didn’t know. But he needed the money he reminded himself, he’d just have to push past it. He had, after all, managed it with no problems before, but that was before everything had gone wrong. He had to get that back, he really had no other choice.

Pidge’s phone pinged and she scanned over the message before quickly tapping one back.

“Bar work?” He checked.

“Yup. You got a suit?”

“Umm. No.” Keith’s stomach dropped at the thought of something so formal.

Pidge was still focused on her phone, another ping signalling another reply. “Ask Matt to lend you a suit, you’re about the same size. You free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Umm, yeah? Band rehearsal’s tonight, so night off tomorrow.”

“You know how to do stockroom shit?”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence while Pidge fired off another reply followed by a quickly returned ping.

“Done.” She said, opening her bag and tearing off a strip of paper from a notebook. She grabbed a pen and copied something from her phone. She passed him the slip and while Keith took in the address that was neatly printed on it, she tapped some more on her phone. Keith’s phone pinged in his pocket, signalling an incoming text message.

“I’ve sent the address to your phone too, so no excuses.”

‘Ebonies’. He’d never heard of it, but it was really no wonder as the address was in an upmarket end of town. It sounded promising for tips at least.

“Be there at four tomorrow, ask for Acxa.”

Keith thought he caught an odd expression on her face for a moment, one that looked remarkably like Matt when he was up to shit, but as quickly as he thought he’d seen it, it was gone. Perhaps he’d just imagined it. He folded the paper up carefully and tucked it securely into the top pocket of his flannel shirt.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he stared down at his hands resting in his lap once more.

“No problem, Keith, that’s what friends are for.” He frowned at the sentiment but decided he should try and accept it. He looked up at her and half smiled.

“Well, I’m not used to friends doing kind favours for me.”

“Then I’d say you’ve never had proper friends before.”

Keith looked shocked, “Call me out for being a lonely orphan why don’t you!” Pidge’s face flushed red with embarrassment.

“That’s not what I meant! I was… I meant…” she stammered, trying to back-pedal.

Keith laughed, “Relax, Pidge. I’m just fucking with you!” She playfully punched him on the arm when she realised he hadn’t been offended. “Although, seriously, I’m really grateful for you helping me out. Can I…” he paused to word his question, “Can we keep this just between us? Why I need the money? I really don’t need Shiro getting on my back about this and then he’d just worry.” _And the fewer people involved the better,_ he thought.

“Sure, but I want a personal demonstration of your flair skills at some point.”

Keith huffed a short laugh, “Sure.” He agreed. The smile lingered on his lips for a while, quietly relishing in the idea that he had a friend, a real friend that was willing to help him out and who was willing to accept him and all his flaws. Perhaps this shitfest he’d got himself into might have some unexpected positives. He wondered how she would react to all the stuff she didn’t know about him, but he pushed those thoughts away and decided just to enjoy this moment while it lasted. He felt hopeful, not happy exactly, but happy that he was feeling hopeful. It was progress.

 ***

“Hunk!” Lance practically screamed it across the large grassy area that a lot of students used to hang out in between classes. There were a number of picnic benches dotted around and he had quickly spotted his friend sitting on one at the far side. Several people turned towards the sound as he sprinted across, his bag bouncing off his shoulders behind him. Lance had a smile so big it was almost splitting his face.

“Woah, buddy! What’s got you fired up? Lotor off sick?” Lance shook his head.

“Guess what?” He said, puffing from the slight exertion.

“What?”

“They just told us what the end of year showcase musical is going to be,”

“Something good, I’m guessing?”

“Dude! It’s Evan _Freakin_ Hansen!”

Hunk’s jaw dropped, “Oh. My. Gosh.” He said slowly. Lance was bouncing up and down, his hands clutched together at his chest, “Oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh! That’s incredible!” He jumped up and wrapped his arms around Lance but even that didn’t contain the excited boy’s actions, Lance was still bouncing despite being encircled by his friend’s large arms. They broke apart and Hunk resumed his place at the bench and began to hurriedly unpack the lunch he’d made for the two of them, Lance remained standing. Hunk grinned up at him, he knew just how much this meant to Lance. “Sit.” he ordered, “Eat.”

Lance looked at Hunk like he’d forgotten he was there for a moment, then awkwardly folded his long legs under the table opposite Hunk. He unwrapped the sub that was put in front of him and looked to see what the filling was today; egg mayo and pickled beetroot. Lance didn’t know how Hunk managed to get the strangest combinations to work, but he did, and this was one of his favourites. Hunk had some serious culinary talents.

“Man, that’s amazing that they picked that. You’re going to smash it outta the park!” Hunk said as he unpacked their homemade smoothies one by one onto the table. Lance’s face clouded over.

“That’s if Lotor doesn’t ruin it.”

“What?! Forget that guy, Lotor who? The part’s yours already.” Lance smiled weakly at his friend. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it, but pep talk wasn’t going to be enough.

Hunk’s phone blipped and he pulled it out of his pocket to read the message.

{Pidge} **Hey. Are Ebonies still looking for bar staff?**

Hunk fired a quick reply.

{Hunk} **Yeah, why, know someone?**

Lance was watching Hunk’s expression shift while he took the pause in their conversation as an opportunity to take a few large bites of his lunch, careful not to let any of the fillings that were escaping fall down his front, beetroot was not easy to wash out.

{Pidge} **I’ve a friend looking for bar work, just happens to be a flairman?**

Hunk’s face lit up. “Who is it? I wanna know who can put a smile on my buddy’s face like that.” Lance teased.

“Hunk laughed, “It’s only Pidge, but she says she knows someone who’s interested in bar work who can flair! Oh, man, I hope they’re serious. The last few that Acxa interviewed cost her a few good bottles of spirits.”

{Hunk} **Woah! That’s osm! Can they come in tomorrow afternoon around 4? Acxa will be in then. Do they know how 2 manage a stockroom? It’ll b aftnoon an evening shift, r they down wit that? They need someone 2 start asap, that a problem?**

Lance smiled, “As long as they can put up with me practising like you do, I don’t care.”

Hunk grinned across at him, “how could anyone complain about working to your dulcet voice?” Lance grinned back.

{Pidge} **Man, he’s desperate, he’ll take anything that’s going. Yeah, he’s got experience and can start asap. I’ll tell him to see Acxa @ 4. Send me the address in a separate text and I’ll forward it on**

{Hunk} **Cool**

Hunk quickly tapped in the address and put his phone back in his pocket. “I mean, it’s not that I mind helping out and the extra shifts have been good for the money, but I’d rather spend my time concentrating on homework right now, ya know?”

“Hey, Acxa has really appreciated all the extra work you’ve done for her lately, she’s lucky she’s got someone with muscles like yours to help her,” he nodded to Hunk’s upper arm, “I hope your replacement is no stranger to a bench press for their sake.”

Hunk flushed slightly at the compliment, “Man, what a day! Good news for both of us!”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitched. Hunk should have seen it coming. He looked at Hunk and began quietly, only loud enough for them both to hear -

_“I had a dream, a dream about you, baby._

_It's gonna come true, baby._

_They think that we're through, but baby,”_

“Lance, no. Stop.” Hunks words had no effect other than to spur him on and louder. Now people were starting to turn their heads -

_“You'll be swell! You'll be great!_

_Gonna have the whole world on the plate!_

_Starting here, starting now,_

_honey, everything's coming up roses!”_

Lance uncoiled from the bench and began to rise as he sang louder, eventually standing on his seat with his arms out wide -

_“Clear the decks! Clear the tracks!_

_You've got nothing to do but relax._

_Blow a kiss. Take a bow._

_Honey, ev-‘ry-thing's co-ming up roses!”_

Hunk’s forehead met the table and he groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs this chapter were  
> Chapter title - To Life from Fiddler on the Roof  
> ... Shiro’s song will remain a mystery for now, as it would be a plot spoiler, but it will be revealed later on. (Sorry!)  
> Keith’s Brain Track - You Can Be So Cruel by Royal Blood  
> Lance’s Monday morning pep song - More Than Survive from Be More Chill  
> Everthing’s Coming Up Roses from Gypsy 
> 
> So, yeah, as we all know, Pidge is a shit, but the best kind of shit. 
> 
> I can’t wait to hear all your responses to this chapter... :D


	5. You Walked in and My Heart Went Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has his interview at Ebonies and some other stuff happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, lovely comments and encouragement you've all been giving me, both on here, the Voltron Fanfic-ers Facebook group and Tumblr - you feed my soul!
> 
> A special thank you to @letmebelex, for the daily encouragement, helping me beta this chapter (it's a tough job, I know!) and tattoo inspiration! Also to @kelamorrison, for helping me when I thought this fic was doomed and making me laugh out loud in cafes on my own!
> 
> Another special thank you goes to my good friend known as da524, who has spent more hours than he probably cares to, talking about, thinking about and helping me with writing the plot outline, scene development and suggestions - both helpful and nonsense (I'm sorry that Buckfast cocktails didn't make the cut!) - he deserves a lot of credit. he never asked to get sucked into this crazy idea of mine!
> 
> There's no extra warnings or tags for this chapter, so enjoy!

Keith stood staring at Ebonies from across the street. His fingers nervously traced around the shape of the buttons at his cuff, the sleeves of the borrowed jacket felt unnatural around his wrists.

He had phoned Matt right after his coffee date with Pidge and arranged to meet him at his apartment later that evening to borrow a suit. He hated suits, he could only associate them with bad memories of funerals, but he knew that he had to go through with this, or it would be his funeral, of that he had no doubt.

Bolstering himself, he crossed the road towards the large, single-storey building. Bold letters spelling out the name of the bar alternately in black and white hung above the doorway, a ribbon of piano keys flowing after. When he reached the entrance he hesitated, unsure what to do. Should he knock? There was no bell. Acxa was expecting him. He checked his watch; it was four on the dot. He noticed there was a gap where the doors met in the middle, so he gave one a nudge and it swung open, so he stepped in.

Beyond it, another double door led into the main room which was adorned with a high vaulted ceiling. There were several wooden-panelled partitions that were as tall as they were wide and topped with frosted glass which acted as a screen between where he stood and the main room, creating a corridor of sorts around the perimeter.

Keith edged his way around the first one and looked around for signs of life. His eyes adjusted to the dimness around him, the only lights on seemed to be those around the bar which took up a large section of the far-right wall. In the centre of the room on a circular raised platform stood a stunning white grand piano almost glowing in the contrast of the lack of light. Small round tables were scattered liberally around it like satellites; long, low tables were stretched partially along the left wall and along the back of the room, each with opulent leather sofas to complement them. As if to leave no further doubts that this was a piano bar, the décor was entirely clean-cut, black and white with pictures of famous pianists in plain frames around the walls. Keith’s eyes skimmed over them as he took in everything around him; Duke Ellington, Ray Charles, Nina Simone, right the way round to Elton John, Ben Folds and Birdy.

The sound of a door banging made him jump back, knocking into a chair by his side. He felt embarrassed as he pushed the chair neatly back into place, the noise of its feet scraping along the wooden floor sounding louder than it should have in the acoustics of the otherwise silent room. Someone carrying a stack of boxes appeared through a doorway next to the bar, the voice of the person was muffled behind them,

“Have you not left yet? I thought you said you were leaving, like, ten minutes ago?”

Keith wrung his fingers nervously and started to make his way towards the bar. “Um, no, I’m not… I’m… I’m Keith? I’m here about a job?”

Acxa’s head quickly appeared from behind the boxes as she placed them on the end of the bar, an angry frown on her face. “He left the damn door open _again_?!” Keith raised his hands defensively and Acxa quickly apologised, “Sorry, not your fault, I know, sorry,” she said again, waving a hand at him, “but that kid is going to get it the next time he’s in here!” She huffed a large, frustrated sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. Keith felt awkward, not knowing exactly how he should be acting in this situation, so he fiddled some more with his buttons and glanced between who he presumed was Acxa and the rest of the furnishings around her. The sudden hush that she left in the wake of her outburst and the way she was now giving Keith the once-over gave him the urge to bolt, but something fixed his feet to the floor and he tried his hardest not to give her a death stare in return.

“Keith?” She said at last. Nodding, he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. He’d swept his hair up in a ponytail in an attempt to brush up a little. He couldn’t bring himself to forgo his eyeliner completely, but he’d managed to apply the barest amount that would satisfy his psyche. Feeling he should be a little more assertive, he crossed the space between them and held out his hand.

“Sorry, hi. Yes, Keith, Keith Kogane… Ma’am.” He tagged on at the end. She snorted derisively at the honorific as she shook his hand.

“Acxa, just call me Acxa,” she smiled warmly and walked to the far end of the bar, “do me a favour and throw me those boxes?” Keith stepped up and lifted the first one which felt light in his hands. He ungracefully tossed it in her direction, but she caught it with ease and tucked it in place under the countertop. Conscious that the very job he was here for relied on his ability to throw things accurately he quickly shrugged out of the jacket that was restricting his movements, hung it over the back of a chair and tossed the next box with ease. They continued until they were done, Acxa dusted off her hands and gestured for Keith to join her at one of the small tables. “Thanks.”

Keith still didn’t know what to make of her. He’d expected someone older, someone more… upper class? Business-like? Whatever his assumptions had been, the tall, slender woman with short, bubblegum-blue hair was far from it. He felt uncomfortably overdressed next to her, she was wearing a bright yellow Cramps T-shirt, ripped jeans and black biker boots. She was… actually pretty awesome, he thought.

“So,” she eyed him carefully, “you’ve worked a busy bar before?” She put the emphasis on ‘busy’, there was a difference between working in her place and some watering hole in the sticks.

Keith cleared his throat, “Yea- um, yes. The first bar I worked at was a busy student bar,” he thought back to those long nights when it was five deep to be served without any respite until closing time, “then I was offered a job at a cocktail bar where I trained to be a flairman,” He felt nervous declaring this once again for the second time in as many days. He had honestly thought he’d never go back to it, or ever have a need to again, so he’d spent the majority of the night before brushing up in his room after Googling Ebonies and discovering his flair skills would be put to use. Thankfully, it had all come back to him with ease. “I got my WFA green grade and I was working on my blue.” He divulged quietly.

Acxa hummed, Keith was unsure if it was in approval or scepticism. “How long were you there for?”

“Just over a year,” he was starting to sweat, silently praying that she wouldn’t ask about anything after that because, in all honesty, in the suddenness of it all he hadn’t thought about what to say if she asked about what had happened from then until now. What could he say that wouldn’t get him shown the door?

“Okay,” She said definitely, “I had actually given up on finding a flairman and was just looking for a general bartender and someone who could oversee the stocktaking, but I guess fate has other ideas. Is this kismet? let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.” Acxa rose from her seat and gestured for Keith to get himself behind the bar.

His nerves were starting to show. He tried to walk not too quickly and not too slowly all at once and felt like an idiot.

“Hey, chill,” Acxa said reassuringly, “you can do this, right?” It wasn’t a question really, more like a vote of confidence.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but the way she spoke and gave him a smile made him feel a bit more relaxed, so he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled them neatly up his forearms. In a ‘fake it to make it’ kind of way, he leaned on the lower surface below the countertop with both hands. “So, is there anything specific you’d like me to make?” He looked about and noted the tools around where he stood, familiarising himself with the layout of where things were; spirits, fruit bottles, garnishes, napkins, spoons, tins, jiggers, muddlers, ice – cubed and crushed.

“Your Green Grade; you had to make a Sea Breeze, Mojito and a Cosmopolitan, right?” Keith nodded, “How about you do those three, but I’ll lay off timing you.” She suggested with a grin.

Keith smiled and laughed a little. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought it was going to be, this was something he’d rehearsed enough for it to become muscle memory. His eyes scanned over everything again, mentally ticking off what he needed, lifting a few bottles of spirits from the speed rail to check and setting them back down. He grounded himself by briefly closing his eyes, taking a controlled breath in and out and rolling his shoulders, he nodded to himself, then he began.

A flawless napkin spin-and-flip neatly landed on the bar – one, then another – two, three, which set the tone. Effortlessly, he spun three glasses bringing them to rest carefully on the edge of the bar. Two high balls and a cocktail glass. Now the rhythm set in. The beat of his brain track tick-ticking like a metronome helping him to keep time.

With the scoop, he flicked his first tin neatly over his shoulder catching it with ease down low behind his back. Moving ice into it, he then flipped a smaller tin which he caught neatly in the bigger one before stalling them on his forearm then jumping them to the back of his hand in a second stall, perfectly balanced.

He began assembling the first drink with a quick toss of lime wedges and mint leaves. The bottle of rum slipped deliberately through his fingers turning and spinning like it had taken on a life of its own.

He poured each measure with well-practised accuracy, the tiniest amount either over or under would have failed him his test. The balance of the ingredients had to be precise for consistency. Perfection.

The rest flowed easily.

Palm-spin, muddle, churn, soda, ice, straw, garnish.

Shadow pass, switch to roll, short pour, cut.

The quiet sounds of his palm smacking against the glass and metal were reassuring. He was focused, in a zone. His body moved instinctively, fluid as always, as the performer, the dancer, within him took over.

Next, his favourite move. A liquid switch. He flicked the measure from one tin up in the air which made a vertical line of liquid that seemed to defy gravity before catching it in the tin in his other hand on its decent.

Double thumb roll to nest.

Crossover roll, split back-to-back over switch, nest.

Pour, cut.

Tin jump, pour, cut.

Sikky spoon flick, stir, straw, slice.

Churn, strain, garnish.

Done.

He settled each glass carefully on its napkin and took a step back, standing at ease he clasped his hands neatly in front of himself. The corner of his mouth twitched in satisfaction of a job well done but he nervously waited for Acxa’s judgement.

She picked up each glass and took a drink from each one, but she knew from experience and having watched him carefully that they were made perfectly.

“Which is your favourite?” She asked unexpectedly, but Keith was quick to answer,

“The Cosmo.”

“Interesting,” Acxa studied him some more, Keith could feel his confidence slowly starting to slip as the silence returned, “subject to references, how soon can you start?”

Relief swept over him and he broke into a smile. “Oh, wow, thanks!” He beamed, “I could start tomorrow?” The sudden release of tension made him bounce a little on his toes as he put his hands in his - Matt’s – pockets. He was going to need to buy some of his own he supposed, and some shirts. He fretted a bit about the expense, he would have to sacrifice some of the money he’d put aside for the sake of getting more money in the long run. Five days until the deadline, could he dare try and negotiate a little more time? He pushed the bad thoughts away but then remembered his other commitments. The band, the karaoke contest.

“Um,” he began nervously, he didn’t feel like he had a right to ask any favours at this stage, “I’ve got a couple of things coming up, but I could back out of them if I had to.” He was reluctant to, but he couldn’t see a way around it if Acxa needed him here.

“Yeah? Shoot,” She invited.

“Well, I’m in a band- “

“I know,” Acxa cut him off with a smile, surprising Keith, “Kral Zera, am I right?” Her smile twisted into a bit of a smirk as she watched the colour rising in his cheeks, Acxa laughed, “Hey, don’t be embarrassed, you’re good! I’ve seen you a few times now, I was wondering how your moves would show in your flair, you definitely know how to put on a show when you’re on stage…”

“ _Oh my god…”_ Keith hid his face in his hands, the heat radiating from him making them warm, she had seen him _perform?_ This was the first time he’d ever spoken to someone who had seen him as the ‘other’ Keith. Acxa threw her head back and laughed at his mortification.

“I said don’t be embarrassed! I knew who you were as soon as I saw you. D’you have some gigs coming up?”

Keith could barely look her in the eye, “We’ve a gig on Friday night and I’ve, um, signed up for the karaoke contest at the Balmera too, which’ll be the next two Saturdays, but if you need me here it’s cool, I can back out.” He wanted nothing more than an excuse to back out of the contest, but the money would be crucial, providing he actually won it.

“No, that’s fine, I can cover those shifts no problem. Karaoke, huh?” She paused and looked at him, definitely feeling like he was being judged this time, but she didn’t say anything more. “There is one more thing, I just need to know how you feel about it,” Keith tensed slightly, “the other bartenders are given the chance to sing if they want, as long as it’s a suitable song,” she emphasised, “the customers like it so it’s good for tips, you’re more than welcome to join in, but if it’s not your thing that’s okay, I’d understand,-“

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine… I - I think I’ll think about it, for now, if that’s okay?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about stepping out of his comfort zone and singing… other stuff. If he was honest, the thought sat like a rock in his stomach.

“Sure, I expect you’d want to settle in first, get to know the other staff, we’re all quite close but I’ve a feeling you’ll fit in quick.” She gave him a reassuring nod. “If you give me a note of your references I’ll contact them later and after that, I’ll see about getting you your own set of keys. Can you come in tomorrow at three?” Keith nodded, “I’ll go over the stockroom with you now and what you’ll need to do. I’ll make sure someone’ll be here tomorrow to let you in, there’s usually someone around, the boys use this place like their own private rehearsal studio,” she rolled her eyes as she waved a hand towards the platform and the piano, but it was obvious that she didn’t really have a problem with it, “It’s actually quite nice to have another person in here, doesn’t make the place feel quite so empty, and they just keep themselves to themselves on the whole. I hope you like show tunes though, ‘cause you’re gonna be hearing a lot of them from now on!” She joked. Keith did the thing he always did when he didn’t know how to react, which was just to not react at all. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement at least.

As promised, Acxa showed him around the place and Keith found the set-up similar enough to his previous job that he felt confident he knew what to do the next day. They discussed more details about the job and the bar as they went. The place was owned not by Acxa, but by her uncle, a man called Zarkon who now lived on the west coast, so he had put Acxa in charge. Keith carefully hid his feelings when she mentioned that payday would be the last Friday of the month which was weeks away considering this was just the start of a new one.

Walking away from Ebonies, Keith felt a sense of relief and less anxiety than he’d felt in a while. His life had gone from fairly stagnant to a rollercoaster ride in a matter of a few days. Although the majority of it was a complete living nightmare, there were a few shining moments that where making him appreciate the change. Acxa had given him a couple of black vests that were embroidered with the bar’s logo on the left breast. He headed downtown to pick up some shirts and pants.

***

Keith had to have a lie in the next morning. He’d been losing more sleep than usual, and he didn’t want to turn up at his new job a wreck. He managed to haul himself to the gym because he knew that would pump some energy into him and Shiro would be on him if he skipped going. He didn’t see him at all during his workout, but he bumped into him at the door of the changing room as he was leaving to go.

“Hey, what’s up? Are you avoiding me or something? We’ve not spoken in days.”

“Hey, Shiro,” he towel-dried the ends of his hair while he stood to talk, “sorry, I’ve been busy – “

“Getting a job? Yeah, I know, Matt told me. Any reason why I’m hearing about this second-hand?”

“Well, it wasn’t deliberate,” it was _entirely_ deliberate, the more he spoke about what was going on the higher the chance of letting something slip. He already felt like Pidge knew too much even though he trusted her enough not to say anything to either of them. “I’ve just been busy is all.”

“So, when do you start?”

“Today, actually. They were pretty desperate for someone to start right away.”

“And… you’re alright with this? I don’t just mean the work, I mean, it’s a bar, right?”

The unspoken question hung in the air between them; how would he handle being surrounded by temptation? Keith’s hands stilled and he brought the damp towel to rest around his neck, gripping the ends.

“I’m not going to deny the risk, but there will always be that risk. I can’t just go on trying to avoid it, ya know? Besides, it’ll be different being behind the bar instead of at it.”

Shiro gave him a tight smile. He was proud of him for finally taking the initiative to get a job, but at the same time, he worried about him. Yes, Keith was an adult now, but Shiro thought he’d never be able to shake the feeling of brotherly responsibility he had for him.

“I’m not gonna lie, you know I’m gonna worry about you.”

“You’re always gonna worry about me and I wish you didn’t quite so bad, but I know it’s my fault for making you that way. I’m hoping I can change that now, I’m ready for this… I think,” he laughed nervously, “but I’ll never learn unless I try, right?”

Shiro wrapped him in a hug, his muscular arms easily folding around Keith’s narrower frame. He deliberately squeezed him tight until he was forced to expel the air in his lungs.

“Oof! Shiro, easy, man!” Keith huffed. Shiro pushed his chin down on the top of Keith’s head, it was a personal joke he liked to play on Keith from when they were younger, always playfully mocking the fact that he was taller than Keith.

“Okay, shorty. Shall I save you some dinner?” Shiro released him and rubbed his head mussing up his damp hair.

“Hoy! Gerroff!” Keith batted at his arm in vain and ducked backwards, “I’m only doing the stock today so I’ll be there from three ‘til five, but I’ve got band practice after, will you save me some?”

“Sure, no problem.” Shiro began to walk towards the staff room where he had been heading in the first place, “Good luck, Keith. Remember, make good choices!” He didn’t need to look back to know the glower that was piercing the back of his head.

“I’ve borrowed your bike!” Keith called after him down the corridor.

“Don’t wreck it!” He answered back.

***

The cold wind nipped at his nose and ears, but his cheeks were warm and rosy from the exertion of cycling across town. Keith carefully chained up Shiro’s bike to the nearest post and slung his bag back over his shoulder as he made his way towards the now familiar black doors. Equally familiar was the thin gap between the doors where they didn’t quite meet. He frowned, feeling conflicted. On one hand, he felt like he should probably be mentioning this to Acxa, but on the other, he didn’t want to be the new guy getting folk in trouble on his first day. He pushed the door open and made sure the latch clicked when he pushed it shut.

Now inside, and without the general noise from the street, he could hear someone playing at the piano. Even although Acxa had said they would be expecting him and reassured him to make as much noise as was necessary, (he was on the clock after all, not them) he felt oddly intrusive and didn’t want to interrupt. There was no other way to get to the bar or the door to the basement without crossing the room, so he held back and decided to wait until they stopped.

He stood back behind the partition listening as they played, they were proficient and had an added emotional quality that he could easily pick out, perhaps something not everyone would be able to hear.

_“I know that I have issues,_

_I face them, I swear._

_Think I overcome them_

_Then turn - they're still there._

_Wish that I was different_

_I'd like to let go._

_But when I try to change_

_There's my past, saying no…”_

The voice was clear, rich and passionate. Keith was slightly taken aback by its honesty. As the song continued he felt increasingly like an intruder, not to the building, but to being privy to something which he felt was meant to be private.

_“I feel out of control_

_I feel safe on the ground._

_I go building up walls_

_Yet I wish to be found…”_

The song took a sudden punchy, staccato rhythm before the lead up to a crescendo,

_“And I look at the people_

_Who've worked it all out_

_And I wonder why I'm still_

_A bundle of doubt and sometimes_

_I wanna just stand up and shout...”_

Keith heard a subtle shift in the fingers on the keys like they were no longer as in control as they had been. The voice took on a raw edge which Keith couldn’t decide whether it was deliberate or not,

_“Before your life flies by_

_Don't let your life fly by…”_

The crescendo came to an abrupt stop, after a dramatic pause the voice came back hushed and unsteady,

_“But is it safer?_

_Maybe it's safer_

_If I don't try?”_

The final note faded into silence, broken only by the thunk of the sustain pedal springing back into position.

 _Finally_ , Keith thought and stepped around the partition to cross the room. He hadn’t given much thought as to what he would say to the other person, if he would just say hi or introduce himself, if he would just walk in like he’d worked there forever and go straight to the basement, all he knew was that he wanted to avoid chit-chat and get on with the job as quickly as he could. What he hadn’t thought about _at all_ was how the other person would react to his sudden appearance on cat-like feet.

The shriek was unexpected enough to send Keith reeling backwards into a table.

At this point Lance McClain realised two things: He never wanted to hear that sound leave his lips ever again and, if Keith Kogane could kill with a single look he should be dead by now.

Three things: Keith Kogane was in the bar staring at him.

Four things: Keith was the new guy he’d been waiting on?

Fi… yes, five things: he must’ve left the door unlocked, again. Shit.

Okay, six things: Acxa was going to kill him. If she found out. Would he tell on him?

Sev- Okay this was getting ridiculous.

“What the fuck…?” Keith stared at Lance, his mind spinning like a wheel of fortune unable to land on a final thought.

“What-the-fuck yourself!” Lance snapped. Somebody was pulling a shit joke, right? This wasn’t really happening. Lance put a hand over his heart as if that would actually slow it down or cushion it from the way it was banging against his ribs. “why’d you sneak up on me like that? I could have attacked you!”

Keith snorted a laugh at that, “Psh, yeah, sure,” Lance looked mad at the put-down, “anyway, it’s not my fault, you left the door unlocked. If you don’t like surprises then you shouldn’t leave yourself open to them.”

Lance was left without a retort to that, he was guilty as charged. He desperately tried to think of something to answer back with, but he was on the back foot again thanks to Keith. _Why does this keep happening?_ He asked himself. “Well, you could have knocked or something?!” He pitched his hands on his hips.

“Uh, I work here now? Why shouldn’t I just walk in? Anyway, Acxa told me you’d be expecting me.”

“Well, I _was_ expecting you! Well, not _you,_ she said the new guy was called Keith, I just… there’s a lot of Keiths out there, right?”

Was he supposed to answer that? The irritation of conversation was starting to nip at Keith, he just wanted to get on and start his job and try to get over the way Lance kept appearing around him lately. “Whatever, I need to start work now, if you don’t mind?” He took a step towards the basement door.

“Hey, don’t let me stop ya, I mean clearly I don’t anyway, seeing as you – “

“I waited for you to finish!” Keith’s voice was rising with irritation, he was on the cusp of shouting, “I waited because I didn’t want to interrupt!”

“You… you heard- you listened?” Lance’s adrenaline-flooded system stilled for a moment as he took in what Keith had said. He felt exposed, he’d been singing unreservedly, unguarded and not performing like he would have done if he’d known he had an audience. What did that sound like? He suddenly became very self-conscious. Had it been any good? The last thing he’d ever want would be for Keith, of all people, to hear him sing anything that was less than 100% star quality.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I couldn’t _not_ …” his hand waved towards the partition and the direction of the door before coming to the back of his neck, the feelings of being an intruder returning. Lance glanced at the sheet music propped up on the book stand on the piano, trying to avoid any eye contact that might reveal his insecurities. “Hey, I’m sorry I scared the shit out of you. I’m gonna go and get on with the stock…” he shifted his bag on his shoulder and shoved his other hand in his pocket, turning to make his way to the basement door but Lance made him pause.

“Oh my god,” he said in a rushed breath with some kind of dawning realisation, like things were finally falling into place, “you’re the new flairman. You’re the one Hunk was talking about. _Pidge!_ ” He spat her name out under his breath like a curse, which, to be honest, had a familiar ring to it. Actually, things started to fall into place for Keith now too,

 _“Pidge_.” He muttered.

“Wait, you know Pidge?” Lance looked like he was trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

“She’s my brother’s boyfriend’s sister.” He realised belatedly that ‘friend’ would have done, but he was still unfamiliar with calling her that. It was a contentious title, at the moment anyway, seeing as it looked like she’d set him up.

“Matt.”

“Huh?” Keith was a bit lost in thought.

“Matt is Pidge’s brother, Shiro’s your brother.”

“Well, yeah,” Keith said like it was logical.

“Well, I didn’t know!” Lance huffed defensively, “You don’t really look like either of them, but now you say it, I can see Matt and Pidge are almost carbon copies.”

The corner of Keith’s mouth lifted, “Yeah, they are,” he smiled to himself at the thought, “Shiro is my adoptive brother. Look, man, I’ve gotta get on, I’ll leave you to your… practice.” He lifted his hand in dismissal and finally made his way downstairs to the basement.

Once he was out of sight, Lance sat down hard on the piano stool and stared at the keys while he tried to process.

Keith.

How did this guy just keep appearing around him? Was he not suffering enough? Was it not bad enough that he had the pressure of going up against Lotor in the auditions that he had to be tormented by the one person that might genuinely oppose his chances at winning the karaoke competition? Because this now meant that the one place that he could freely practice for both was now compromised.

He shuffled the sheets of music together, put them back in their folder and stuffed them in his backpack a little aggressively. He was about to get up to leave, cutting his practice time short when he had a change of mind. He couldn’t afford to do this, he didn’t have the time to spare, he’d promised himself that he was going to throw all he had into rehearsing, Keith be damned! So, Keith would be witness to his talents? Maybe a bit of intimidation was what was needed. Maybe Keith would back down and drop out of the competition once he truly knew what he was up against.

There was an alarm sounding somewhere in the recesses of his subconscious, but he hit the snooze button on that inconvenience.

So, he carried on, digging out the new equipment from his bag that Hunk and Pidge had been working on for him. He set it on the edge of the piano platform and cleared the tables and chairs to the side to make a big enough space for him to carry out his dance practice. There were no electrical sockets in the centre of the room, so he found one near the bar to set up the equipment to.

Keith pushed the door open with his back, his arms occupied with a stack of crates, and made his way to the bar to stock up the refrigerators. Lance tried and failed to not be distracted by Keith’s bare arms and the black ink that adorned both his shoulders. They were slightly obscured by the straps of his tank top, but he could make out what was possibly a lion or a wolf on one side and a complex pattern of circles, semicircles, lines and dots on the other.  He ducked his head back down and tried to concentrate on matching up the right wires with the right sockets between the laptop and the camera which was now mounted on a tripod beside him.

Keith carefully lowered the crates to the floor and stretched his arms up above his head as he straightened, using it as a guise to glance over and see what Lance was doing, his curiosity piqued. He averted his eyes quickly when he sensed Lance lifting his head to look at him and decided he should just focus on his job and fill the fridges.

The silence was actually causing Lance pain, he couldn’t stand it. He knew he talked too much and gathered that most people found it – him - insufferable, but as hard as he tried, the longer the silence stretched, he just couldn’t help himself.

“So, you at college?”

“No.”

“Have you been?”

“I…” Keith felt the sting as he thought about it, “I dropped out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lance grasped the tone and let it go, lapsing into silence again.

Keith carried on shifting the bottles onto the shelves. Eventually, the silence was broken by the loud chiming tune of the laptop booting up just as he had finished and was gathering the empty crates to take downstairs. Lance moved the camera further over so it was pointing towards the centre of the room and that’s when Keith noticed the clearing he’d made. Okay, he had to ask.

“What’s with…?” he waved his hand over the laptop, the camera and another strange box which appeared to be linked up to both.

“Oh, it’s just some tech that Hunk and Pidge hooked me up with.” He said dismissively, although not intentionally, he was too busy trying to remember the instructions they had given him to set it up, regrettably he’d zoned out a bit when they’d been giving him a rundown. His brows knitted together as he stared at the meaningless buttons in front of him.

“Okay, but what’s it for?” Keith only became aware at this point, seeing Lance fully for the first time today, that he was wearing a pair of grey dance pants and he’d removed his hoodie to reveal a baggy cropped T-shirt which was made of three thick bands of colour; pink, purple then blue in descending order. But that wasn’t what caught Keith’s attention, it was the expanse of skin between the two that was making it hard for him to draw his eyes away. He blinked a few times, clearing his head. Lance hadn’t seemed to notice, he had started to move animatedly around the equipment, obviously keen to explain it.

“Well, the rehearsal rooms at college are always busy,” Lance sighed dramatically, “so Acxa lets me practice here, but there’s a lack of mirrors,” he swept his hand in an arc, as if he needed to show the problem, “so I can’t tell what I’m doing, see?” Keith thought he understood but felt there were some gaps in his knowledge of the full situation. “So I’ve been filming myself with this,” he gestured to the camera, “but it was such a pain having to go back and forth to start and stop it, Hunk and Pidge made this doohickey,” he gestured at the odd little box, “so it starts and stops recording with my voice commands.”

 “Voice commands?” Keith questioned,

“Yeah, watch,” he said as he took a few long strides away from the equipment, turned toward the lens, shot finger-guns with a smirk and commanded, “shoot!”. A small red light came to life at the back of the camera, “Stop!” He commanded again, and the little light went off. “See? Neat, huh?” Keith had to admit he was impressed with his friend’s capacity to create tech the way she did.

“Yeah, that’s pretty neat. So, you’re what? Studying dance?”

“Musical theatre and performance,” Lance said with a proud grin, hoping the knowledge would shake Keith up a bit. It looked like it worked because Keith’s face winced and the scowl that had slipped from his features for a short while returned tenfold. Lance gave himself a mental high-five.

“Figures,” Keith said, his voice laced with ice. “So, what’s your deal with Acxa then?” He was trying to figure out how this whole thing fitted together.

“I work for her one night a week for free, she lets me use the bar for practice through the week when I need it.”

“You’re a flairman too?” Keith asked a little incredulously.

“No, _estúpido,_ I _sing!_ ” Lance added another tally mark to his mental scoreboard going by the look on Keith’s face, “Hunk plays the piano, and I accompany him.”

“Oh.” 

It wasn’t much of a reply, but he really was lost for words. Well, wasn’t this just fucking peachy? Not only was he going to have to put up with him singing while he did the stocktaking, but he’d also be listening to him on his evening shifts too? Was he not suffering enough? See, this is why he didn’t do people, they just made life more complicated and he really didn’t need that in his life right now. He picked up the crates he had set at his feet.

“I’m already behind time, I need to push on.” He said and took them downstairs, Lance shrugged and let him carry on.

He spent the next hour in the basement moving boxes and going through sheets on a clipboard. He could hear Lance’s music playing upstairs and he distracted himself in his work enough to not think too hard about what Lance was doing up there, berating himself every time his mind wandered.

He finally reached the point where he had done all he could where he was and admitted to himself that he had no choice other than to come out of hiding. Not that he was really hiding, more like avoiding. He made two trips to the top of the stairs with the remainder of the boxes he needed to replenish the bottles behind the bar then braced himself for the effort of sharing the room with Lance again. The music had stopped so he guessed he was nearly done.

Lance was bent over the laptop, leaning with one arm on the table while looking at the screen at some of the footage he’d just recorded. He was still slightly out of breath and was taking long pulls from the sports bottle he was holding in his free hand. Keith couldn’t help giving him a fleeting look, but then quickly realised it was a mistake. He felt angry at himself for allowing Lance to mess with his head and letting him get under his skin. He dropped the box of lemons he was carrying a little harder than he meant, taking his frustration out on it. The way he saw Lance jump slightly from it out the corner of his eye was worth it though and he was probably a little less savage cutting up the fruit than he would have been because of it.  

Lance sauntered over to where Keith was stood and dropped the bottle on the bar. “Do me a favour and fill it up, would ya?” He huffed as he started to sprawl on the surface. Keith drove the point of the knife into the board hard, making Lance jump to attention.

Keith stared at him hard, perhaps tough tactics would give him the message to stay out of his way. “You didn’t say ‘please’,”

Lance glanced between the knife and Keith’s hard grey-blue eyes, trying to fathom the level of danger behind them. “Please?” He pouted his bottom lip and batted his lashes for good measure. Sometimes there was no need to fight fire with fire when you could dowse it with water. Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle to fill it.

Lance rubbed himself down with the small towel he was holding. Keith was pretty sure he was making a show of it, but then again, he was beginning to realise that that was the way Lance did most things. He thumped the bottle back on the bar and went back to slicing the garnishes.

“Are you working tonight?” Lance said between gulps of water, panting.

At this point, Keith was practically screaming in his head for Lance to shut up, but he somehow kept his cool. So much for Acxa saying ‘they keep themselves to themselves’.

“No, tomorrow.”

“Oh, cool! Me too! Thursday nights are good, nice and busy, always a good night for tips on a Thursday.”

Keith was thankful at that point to hear the main door slam and a few seconds Later Acxa appeared around the partition. Keith smiled to greet her, and she smiled back. She looked between the two when she stopped at the basement door.

“Hi!” She called to Keith, “Lance, you’d better not be keeping Keith back from his job,” she scolded.

“No!” Lance answered a little too loudly.

“Good, now go get your shit tidied up and vamoose! Those tables all had better be fixed before I get back upstairs!” She called behind herself as she descended to the office in the basement.

“Yes, Ma’am!” He replied giving Keith a conspiratory wink.

“Don’t you dare try your charm tactics on me, McClain! You know it won’t wash! And don’t call me Ma’am!”

A short while later Lance had dragged all the tables back into place, packed his equipment away and was shrugging his hoodie back on over his head. Keith watched in the reflection of the mirror behind the bottles he was dusting down. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed for the door.

“See ya tomorrow, Mullet!” He called. 

Keith spun around angrily at the insult, ready to retort, but he’d already disappeared out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith and I argued for days about the Brain Track he was playing while flairing, but he refused to tell me what it was! I like to think it was something like, "Would You Like to Swing on a Star?", like Bruce Willis sings in Hudson Hawk when he's timing himself during a heist. Whatever it was, he's keeping it a secret. 
> 
> Title - Helpless from Hamilton  
> Lance sings - Safer from First Date
> 
> I have now assimilated everything I need to know to pass my World Flair Association Green Grade and watched enough Tom Dyer videos that I feel like I should meet his mum! 
> 
> Check out his Green Grade demonstration video to see Keith's routine(ish) - 
> 
> Do you think Keith will get over himself and sing? Send me your thoughts on this or anything else :D


	6. You Musn't Let the Outside be the Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said a-
> 
> Cover is not the book  
> So open it up and take a look  
> 'Cause under the covers one discovers  
> That the king may be a crook  
> Chapter titles are like signs  
> And if you read between the lines  
> You'll find your first impression was mistook  
> For a cover is nice  
> But a cover is not the book
> 
> ~Mary Poppins Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A warning that this chapter contains biphobic slurs and a character has a panic attack**
> 
> Hello!  
> Welcome to the next chapter! I had some grief writing this, It was a bit of a toughy and it took a few re-writes here and there, but I finally won! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around and for the love this story is getting, not just one, but two fic recs, which blew my mind! Every message, kudos, bookmark and subscription gives me so much motivation, you’ve no idea :)
> 
> Thank you also to those on Tumblr (@crazyrandomhappenklance, come @ me!) and the Voltron Fanfic-ers Facebook group, you guys are the best!
> 
> Will Keith sing? Will Lance remember to shut the door properly?
> 
> On with the show...

Band rehearsal should have been enough to get rid of the distracting thoughts that were clouding Keith’s mind. The long diversion he took to cycle home, cold air stinging his fingers, did nothing to quell the mix of emotions that the day had dug up and worst of all, he couldn’t even identify what all those emotions were.

It had been their final practice before their gig on Friday, so Keith was annoyed with himself that he wasn’t putting his all into it. The other guys had noticed, but he just told them it was because it had been his first day at Ebonies, which was a half-truth. At least the gig was at the Electric, so he didn’t feel as pressured as he might have done if they’d had to travel.

Still, when he got home his frustrations boiled over. Matt met him in the hall when he heard him slam the door a little harder than necessary, drop his bag a little harder on the floor than was needed and he found him struggling to fight his way out of his leather jacket which was not cooperating.

“Tough first day?” Matt questioned, his voice nothing but concern and sympathy. Keith stopped struggling and dropped his hands and his head in tandem, letting out a quiet growl. Matt approached him carefully and held a bottle of beer just under his face in offering.

Keith considered it, but shook his head, “Thanks, but no.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He looked up, “Has Pidge always been a trouble maker?” Keith grumbled.

Matt laughed, “As long as I’ve known her. What’s the gremlin done this time?”

Keith managed to slowly untangle his hands from his jacket and hang it up before making his way to the kitchen in search of supper, Matt followed. He hadn’t realised how hungry he’d become until he smelled the lingering aroma of… well, it wasn’t carbon, so Matt must’ve been in charge of cooking tonight.

“It’s Thai green curry,” he said, handing him a plate as he peered into a pot on the stove. Keith still hadn’t answered his question, but he waited patiently for him to plate his food and sit at the table before pulling up a chair for himself opposite. Matt resisted laughing at the speed that Keith was shovelling the food into his mouth. “Hungry?” He asked with amusement. Keith nodded then slowed, realising that he was probably going to give himself indigestion if kept up the speed. “So, how’d it go?” He tried again.

He looked up at Matt with an odd look on his face, “Do you think I did something bad in a past life?”

Matt wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or not. “Okay, what happened and how is my sister involved? Was it that bad?”

Keith sighed heavily, his hand stilled by the plate, “It – it wasn’t the job itself that was bad, that was actually the good bit.”

“So…”

“You won’t believe this.”

“Okay, try me.”

“Lance.”

“Lance? You mean karaoke-Lance, Lance?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘P’, staring down at his food and dragging his fork through the rice, “The one and only.”

“Uh, okay, what about him?”

“He works there too, he fucking _sings_ there.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’! Pidge had to have known, her friend Hunk also works there and he’s Lance’s roommate.”

Matt bit his lip but didn’t say what he was thinking, instead he asked, “Is it that much of a problem?”

“Matt, the guy is an asshole. An, _‘I’m studying musical theatre and performance!’_ kinda asshole,” he over-dramatically mimicked Lance’s voice and fixed Matt with a hard stare, “d’you see what I’m saying? He _never_ stops talking and he practices during the day there too, so there’s no escape from him! Well, there’s the basement, but I can only stay down there so long.”

“Can’t you just put your earbuds in and ignore him?”

“That might work for when he’s singing, but he practices his dance there too,” Matt gave him a puzzled look, “something about the studios at the college being too busy? I dunno,” he shrugged, “he has an arrangement with the manager.”

“So, his dancing annoys you too?”

“It’s not so much annoying, it’s… distracting.” His mind went where he had specifically told it not to go all evening, why couldn’t he get the image of Lance in that top out of his head? He started to feel a warmth creeping up his face.

Matt looked at him with a searching eye, “Mhm.”

Keith quickly changed the subject, “Where’s Shiro?” He asked, only just now realising that he hadn’t heard or seen him since he got back.

“He’s over at the gym, some idiots smashed up the front, he had to go down there and sort the alarm, I think he’s just waiting on someone to board up the place now.”

Keith was startled, “What the hell? Did they take anything?”

“Nah, just mindless vandalism by the looks of it.”

 _It could be_ , thought Keith, _but what if…_ surely they wouldn’t start going after Shiro? Keith slowly scraped up the last of the rice through a puddle of sauce, finishing off the plate, but no longer able to taste it.

“Thanks for dinner, Matt. I’m gonna shower and hit the sack, I’m doing a double shift tomorrow.”

  
“You’re welcome, no problem. Hey, I know Pidge can be interfering, but I know she really was just thinking of you needing a job, so don’t be too hard on her, yeah?”

“Hmm, don’t think I won’t be saying nothing to her though, I’ll be seeing her on Friday at the gig.”

Matt laughed and offered to clean up Keith’s plate seeing as he was going to be up until Shiro got back, saying he was going to stay over anyway. Keith thanked him and headed for the shower, where he stood under the cascading water for longer than he needed to. He eventually managed to pull himself away from the soothing warmth, dried himself and tugged on a pair of pajama pants before gathering his clothes from the floor and dumping them in the laundry basket in the corner of his room. He flopped on his bed and plugged his phone on charge, which is when he noticed he had a text notification. The same unsaved number as before. Nervously he opened it and his heart sank when he read it.

{New Contact} **Glass can be fixed, other things not so much. See you Sunday.**

Keith balled his fist, desperate to vent his anger on something. Intimidating him by using his family was crossing the line. He only barely gave a thought to the consequences of what he was doing as his fingers swiped over the keys, but there was no way he was going to sit back and not say anything.

{Keith} **Leave my family out of this, this is between you and me.**

{New Contact} **Well that depends on you now, doesn’t it?**

Keith felt the anger in his bones. An anger at the idea of anyone threatening Shiro and an anger at himself, that he had put him in this position in the first place. He felt heat building up behind his eyes as the gravity of the situation became heavier, became more intense than it had when it was just him making stupid choices and making up for them. He could watch out for himself, but how was he going to watch out for Shiro? Or Matt; would they come after him too? What about Pidge? He wanted to hate himself for getting close to her, but at the same time, he knew he selfishly needed her. She was the one person that made him believe he could go back to being that person he was before, even although she didn’t know it.

His anger doubled at the thought of not being able to make the deadline on Sunday and a fresh rush of panic swept over him. It was unlikely, but he had to at least try.

{Keith} **I can get you all the money by the end of the month, I just need a bit more time**

He bit at his nails while waiting a few minutes for the reply.

{New Contact} **cmon Keith, you know how these things work, this isn’t just my money, you know it goes higher up than me. I think you’ve had more than enough time. Show me I can trust you on Sunday and if you’re a good boy we can maybe come to an arrangement for the rest.**

Despite knowing it was pointless when he’d asked, it still stung to have it confirmed. He was fucked. Unless he got _really_ lucky with his tips tomorrow night…

***

The next day, Lance had made it as far as the piano before he remembered to check the door and, right enough, when he went back to see if it had locked, he found it just off the catch. He cursed himself under his breath.

He’d arrived an hour earlier than normal, it was an attempt to get more practice in before the distraction that was Keith was due to start his shift, but it wasn’t long until he glanced across at the basement door and the image of Keith’s taut biceps, seemingly effortlessly carrying boxes to the bar, flashed through his mind. Growling in frustration, he shook his head and told himself it was purely the insatiable curiosity he had for tattoos that meant he hadn’t stopped thinking about them from the day before. He wondered (again) if they had some significance to him. He remembered (again) seeing them up close when he’d talked to Keith at the bar and he remembered (again) confirming it was a wolf, not a lion on his right arm, but the mystery of the shapes on his left was still tugging at his thoughts. Was it some kind of Steampunk thing, maybe? Only, he didn’t give the impression that steampunk was his thing…

Lance groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, realising that his mind had gone where he had specifically told it not to go all morning. Why couldn’t he get that image of Keith in that tank top out his head?

Wrangling for control of his thoughts, he pulled his folder of music and his glasses from his bag and set about organising the order in which he was going to work his way through them. Some warmups to begin with, making his way up to the two pieces he was still deliberating on for his final audition. Of course, this was his plan of action, but it usually took a few diversions as he went, ignoring what he’d set out to do and deviating to wherever his muse took him, but he trusted his instincts - usually.

The hour passed quicker than he realised. The trill of a text message alert broke his concentration just as he was starting to work on his last song. He guessed it was Keith, Acxa had given him his number so he could let him in until he got his own set of keys. He had grudgingly agreed during the dressing down she’d given him after he’d left the door open (again) on Tuesday.

{Keith} **I’m at the door, open up.**

He was annoyed with himself for the sudden anxious flutter he felt as he went to open the door. He was determined not to let Keith get under his skin and make him question himself the way Lotor did, one was more than plenty, and he told himself (again) that he was good enough, he could easily outshine Keith.

He checked through the spy hole just to be sure it was him before opening the door and stepping back to let Keith by.

Keith offered a mumbled thanks and a nod, adjusting his grip on his bag as he slipped through the entrance. As he walked into the room he heard Lance close the inside door. “Did you remember to lock the main door?” He called behind him, his voice laced with a smirk. He grinned when he heard Lance curse under his breath.

“Of _course_!” Lance spat back, but with not very much conviction. Keith laughed when he got to the basement door and heard Lance going back to check the lock.

They spent the next hour keeping out of each other’s way. Keith busied himself in the basement as long as he could, but he could still hear Lance up above and it was slowly driving him mad. He should have brought his earbuds like Matt had suggested.

Lance was able to shut everything out around him and focus on nothing but practising his last song over and over, working on it either all the way through or verse by verse. Repetition was the key to perfection.

It took him a minute to register that Keith was back upstairs and had said something. He looked up from the music and blinked a few times before realising his glasses were stopping him from focusing on the distance ahead. He quickly snatched them from his nose and stuffed them into the bag on the floor by his side, catching a glimpse of an odd expression on Keith’s face as he did. Odd in the sense that, apart from the night at the Balmera when he was being all… cocky (he wished he had a better word), it was the first time he’d seen him without a scowl. Instead, his countenance had been something soft and warm, and Lance didn’t want to think about how much it suited him. He kept his eyes trained on the sheets of paper in front of him, pretending to study the music, although he wouldn’t have been able to focus on them even if he had been wearing his glasses.

Keith waited for Lance to answer him, slightly puzzled by the strange way he’d reacted by pulling off his glasses and carelessly cramming them in his bag. He found it difficult to believe that he was self-conscious about wearing glasses, because Lance didn’t seem to be self-conscious about anything, especially his appearance, and he didn’t want to think about how much they suited him.

“So, is there?” He tried prompting him, seeing as he still hadn’t answered and he wasn’t even looking at him. Lance seemed to snap out of his thoughts and finally acknowledge that Keith had spoken to him.

“Oh, um, sorry, what?”

“I said I need to change into my stuff for this evening, is there somewhere I can change?”

“Oh, sure. Here.” Lance got up and crossed the room towards the bar, indicating for Keith to follow him as he passed him on the way. They went behind the bar and followed it to the far end where there was a solid-looking door. Lance turned the handle, pushed it open and held it for Keith to take its weight while he opened a second door just off to the right. Keith followed him into a small windowless room whereupon he switched on the light. It was sparsely furnished with a half dozen mismatched chairs, a small table, a kitchenette and a large mirror on one wall making the room look bigger than its actual dimensions.

“There are coffee and cups in the cupboard above the kettle, you can help yourself.”

Keith nodded and dropped his bag on the nearest chair.

“Right, well, I’m about to go, Acxa’ll be in soon. I’ll be back later. See ya.”

Keith nodded again, then, because he couldn’t resist, shouted to him as the door swung to close, “Don’t forget to shut the door properly!” There was the faint sound of Lance cursing and then Keith was on his own.

He took his time changing, running his hands down the creases in his white shirt and tucking it into his black dress pants before slipping on the black uniform vest that Acxa had given him. He buttoned it up then looped the burgundy tie he’d brought around his neck, lifting the collar, tying a neat Windsor knot then smoothing everything down once more. He twisted in front of the large mirror, looking at his reflection and felt quite pleased at the result. Appreciating his appearance gave him a certain amount of confidence, even with his toned-down kohl. He folded up his sleeves neatly to the top of his forearms then pulled the black hair elastic from his wrist and tugged his hair up high into a ponytail. Of course, the action lifted his shirt up and he had to tuck it back in again. It was going to take a bit of time to get used to, he thought.

***

Acxa was right, despite feeling like he was going to snap with Lance’s presence in the bar earlier, without anyone else in the building it felt too quiet. He wasn’t on his own for long though. Acxa arrived about twenty minutes after Lance had left and shortly after that, his bar colleagues turned up for their shifts too. She introduced the two girls, Flo and Luka, before they went through to the little break room to dump their stuff. Flo had a bubbly nature and welcomed Keith with a warm handshake and a smile. Luka seemed a little more serious in comparison but still welcomed him all the same.

Acxa handed Keith his set of keys and asked Luka to let Keith shadow her so he could learn what to do for locking up, as she had to be somewhere else later and couldn’t stay.

They stood awkwardly behind the bar having awkward conversations until the first lot of customers came in. Flo made Keith make the first round of drinks, saying it was a tradition for the newbies to do so, but Keith suspected she was just trying to ease him into the shift gently. He didn’t let on, but he was secretly quite grateful for the opportunity, although, he found his confidence quickly and the two girls were more than a little impressed. He knew that he didn’t need to compete, but he felt a need to lay his cards out on the table and perhaps he added a little more flair than was necessary.

With the drinks made and lined up, he heard an appreciative clap from the end of the bar, accompanied by a low whistle. He looked over and saw Hunk beaming a huge smile towards him that made him feel uncomfortably honoured to have it directed to him.

“Woo! That was awesome! No offence, ladies,” he directed to Flo and Luka over Keith’s shoulder. They waved him off with no offence taken, “Pidge said you were good, but you’re like, super good! Oh gosh, where are my manners, I’m Hunk, I guess you kinda know that already though,” he held out his hand and Keith took it.

“Pidge talks me up too much, she’s never even seen me flair,” Keith grumbled, but the scowl that crossed his face barely made a crease on his forehead.

“She _is_ a good judge of character though, and I trust her opinion on that. Welcome to Ebonies!” He gave Keith another of is sunshine smiles and made his way to the break room to get changed.

“Isn’t Lance with you? I thought he was working tonight too,” He tried to sound casual as he asked.

“Yeah, he is, but he doesn’t start for another hour and he uses every minute he has to get ready,” Hunk chuckled as he slipped through the doorway.

The next hour went quietly by. Hunk, now wearing a smart black shirt and mustard-yellow tie, had taken his place at the piano and had been entertaining the steadily growing audience with a mixture of lively and melancholy tunes. Keith was settling in well to the job, Flo and Luka proved to be good teammates and the three of them were getting into a rhythm together between collecting the empties, serving customers and keeping things topped up and in order behind the bar.

Keith was surprised that the time had passed by so quickly because, before he knew it, Lance was making his way between them to get to the back room.

“Ladies!” He addressed all three of them, deliberately looking at Keith as he said it. Keith glowered back at him, pursing his lips to prevent himself from taking the bait.

“Lance, that’s rude! This is Keith, our new flareman,” Luka kindly stepped up to defend and introduce him, which he appreciated, considering she had only known him a couple of hours.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” said Lance, “I just didn’t recognise him, sans mullet.” Luka might have said something more had she not spotted the red tinge at the top of Lance’s ears, giving away a different emotion entirely.

“Lance, break room, now, please?” She sounded breezy but she looked at him with a look you wouldn’t wish to disobey. Lance followed after her. The second the door shut she was on him.

“Spill it, Lance.”

He choked slightly, being caught off guard, “I don’t know what you mean,” he tried for, weakly.

“Sure you do, what’s the story with you and Keith?”

“Nothing! He’s just this really annoying guy who keeps getting all up in my business. I mean, I’m sure it’s not deliberate, but he just keeps turning up everywhere; first the Balmera, now he works here!”

“Okay, but I still don’t see a problem, has he been harassing you or something? He honestly seems sweet as pie…” she studied Lance’s face a little more, “or is it more like sweet _ass_ pie?” She toyed with him, grinning. Lance felt his cheeks burn.

“No!” He tried to protest, “I have no interest in his ass whatsoever!”

“Are you sure about that? Because I’ve been checking it out all night and it _is_ a sweet ass,” She gave him a devilish look, which Lance dismissed with a derisive noise, “shame he’s off the menu though,” she shrugged with disappointment.

“He has a girlfriend? How do you guys work so fast?! You’ve only spoken to him for, like, a couple of hours and he’s not exactly Mr talkative,”

Luka stared at him in disbelief, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked in a flat tone,

“What? No, why? Wait, What?!” Lance almost yelled when Luka began to laugh uncontrollably, leaning her hand on the wall for support.

“Lance McClain!” She said through wheezy breaths, “you need to switch your bi-fi off and back on again because something’s wrong with the signal!” Lance’s continued look of bafflement didn’t help her ease off any, “Lance, honey, he’s _gay_!” Luka lost it again when Lance’s jaw dropped, she’d never seen anyone look so stunned in her life. She eventually calmed down when his expression turned to annoyance, “You really had no idea, did you?”

“I…” he was lost for words and he didn’t want to look like a complete fool by readily admitting he hadn’t realised, although he felt it was perhaps a little too late for that. Luka patted him on the shoulder,

“I’d better get back and you’d better get ready; Hunk will be wondering what’s happened to you.”

Lance nodded and opened his bag to grab his change of clothes, Luka opened the door to return to the bar,

“For the record,” she said, halfway out the room and looking back at him with a grin, “he’s single.”

***

Lance kept his gaze ahead as he made his way to the piano, not daring himself to look anywhere lest he make eye contact with any of the three behind the bar. He had worn his favourite shirt tonight, it was a deep blue silk with an intricately embroidered tiny floral pattern of a slightly deeper blue. He liked it because of the flattering way it contoured his pecs, but now he imagined it like an armour around him, he needed something to give him the strength to get him through this evening without wishing to spontaneously combust on the spot.

He took up a place next to Hunk by the piano that was so familiar it was comforting. Taking up his mic he slid his thumb up the switch to turn it on.

_Showtime._

“Good evening, Damas y Caballeros, How are you all doing tonight?” Lance flashed one of his dazzling, confident smiles as he addressed the room. “I trust Mr Garrett here has been keeping you entertained. I’m Lance and we’ll be your entertainment for this evening, so if you have any requests, please feel free to leave them either up here with me or at the bar. Remember, it’s Thursday, so it’s show tunes night.”

With that, he smiled at Hunk and they launched into their first song,

 _“They call you Lady Luck,_  
But there is room for doubt,  
At times you have a very unladylike way of running out…”

Keith tried not to be too distracted by their performance, which he was loathed to be impressed with, and he concentrated hard on his work. The truth was though, that Hunk and Lance were very good together. Hunk had an obvious natural talent but paired up with Lance’s singing they both lit up. The synergy between them was electric and it showed. The bar really came alive when they started performing.

Around halfway through the night, there was a shift in the atmosphere. A group came in and took up one of the corners that were furnished with sofas. When Keith sensed it he subtly scanned over the group, wondering what about them had made him feel suddenly ready for trouble. They didn’t look anything out of the ordinary, perhaps they were a little younger than the rest of the patronage, being more around his own age, but they were smartly dressed and didn’t look like trouble. He kept the corner of his eye trained in their direction all the same. He had a natural instinct for these things and it had served him well so far.

Lance ducked his mic out of range and hissed at Hunk as their current song came to an end, “What the fuck are they doing here?”

Hunk had spotted them too, “just ignore them and _shine_ ,” he encouraged, “don’t let them get inside your head, you’re the one up here and they’re not.”

Lance watched as Lotor, James, Rolo and Nyma took off their outdoor layers and made themselves comfortable. “Something’s up, I can feel it, and since when has James hung out with them?”

“I’ve never seen them hang out together before either.” Whispered Hunk.

“I’m taking a water break, cover me.” Hunk nodded and Lance left the podium.

Keith’s intuition was proving him right the more he paid attention to the group, and he didn’t like it. They sat talking and laughing loudly, but it didn’t appear to be out of ignorance, it felt more like they were doing it on purpose, for whatever reason. None of them applauded, in fact, they barely paid any attention to Lance, which was kind of weird and also kind of hard.

Lance approached him and Keith noticed how he seemed a bit preoccupied with the group too, trying not to, but flitting looks towards them like he was also waiting for something to happen. “What can I do for you?” He asked.

“Huh?” Lance had been deep in thought and he’d almost forgotten why he was at the bar. “Oh, just a water, thanks.”

Keith grabbed a glass, and although he was tempted to do a few moves with it, his curiosity with Lance’s reaction to the group overrode the temptation. He went slow to allow more time to talk to him. “Do you know them?” Keith subtly directed his eyes to the group’s direction so as not to draw attention to the fact they were talking about them.

Lance frowned and looked down like he didn’t want to discuss it, “You could say, they’re in my class at college.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they’re not friends of yours,” Keith spoke soberly, “and I’m gonna guess your not that happy they’re here.”

Lance huffed, “Yeah? What gave you that impression?”

“Well, you don’t look that happy to see them.”

Lance couldn’t tell if he was joking or just didn’t understand it was a rhetorical question. Under less stressful circumstances he might have found it funny, perhaps even cute, but he scowled, “No shit, Sherlock. Ignore them, it’s... complicated, I can handle them.”

“I didn’t suggest you couldn’t!” Keith bit back, shoving his glass of water towards him a little sharply. Lance snatched it up as harshly as he could without spilling it.

“Like I said, just ignore them, it’s none of your business. They’re more trouble than its worth.” And he turned and walked back to the piano.

Well, that was the sort of comment that made Keith want to make it his business. He kept on with his work, but he couldn’t help but be extra sensitive to the atmosphere in that corner, ready to act if things went sideways. He hadn’t anticipated Ebonies to be the kind of place where he could expect trouble, he had been used to that being a regular occurrence in the student bar he’d worked at in the past, but this place had a much more mature clientele.

Lance returned to smooth-talking the audience; he was working his way through the few requests that had come. He enjoyed the challenge of being able to know any song that was suggested, and if Hunk didn’t know it, which was rare, he would happily sing unaccompanied.

He squinted at the napkins laid out on the top of the piano, his eyes coming to rest on one in particular. He sent Hunk a questioning look, wondering who had left it, but Hunk just shrugged and said it had come from the bar. He couldn’t risk not singing it and disappointing customers, not to mention losing the tip it would bring. He slid it towards Hunk in resignation.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Hunk agreed and began to play a lengthy intro to give Lance a moment to compose himself. Lance glanced over at Lotor’s table to see him staring intently back at him with that haughty, smug smile, and Lance made up his mind there and then about who had requested it.

He resolved to beat them at their own game; if the idea was to intimidate him, make him feel uncomfortable or embarrass him, then they had already lost because he owned this stage and he could own all the songs too.

_“It ain’t so much a question of not knowin’ whut to do,  
I knowed whut’s right an’ wrong since I been ten...”_

Lance took on the roll of Ado Annie perfectly, there was a time, one summer, he’d watched ‘Oklahoma!’ on repeat for a week and a half,

 _“...I’m jist a gurl who cain’t say no,_  
I’m in a turrible fix,  
I always say ‘C’mon, let’s go!’,  
Jist when I orta say nix!”

Keith was watching the room carefully, but his attention was now split between it and Lance. He had moved from behind the bar and was now collecting the empty glasses from around the room. Lance had decided to ramp up his performance and move around the room also, in a manner that was reminiscent of their first encounter at the Balmera.

_“...but as soon as someone kisses me,  
I somehow, sorta, wanna kiss him back!”_

Lance made his way from table to table, smiling and flirting as he went, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling stirring in his stomach from having Lotor and his minions watching him. And Keith. Fuck. He tried to be careful not to over-compensate with his performance as a result of his nerves and called into effect every technique he’d been taught over the years.

_“...Whut you goin’ to do when a feller gits flirty,  
And starts to talk purty? Whut you gonna do?...”_

He had made his way around most of the small tables and was making his way to the sofas on the far wall when he felt that gaze on him once more, but this time he knew it was Keith. He looked up and caught Keith’s eye, but it wasn’t the same look as before, something was different and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There was a sudden loud burst of laughter from Lotor’s table and Keith’s face clouded with anger as he turned to look at them, quite a few of the patrons did too, but the group didn’t seem to care.

Lance brushed it off and carried on with his performance,

 _“...I’m jist a gurl who cain’t say no,_  
Cain’t seem to say it at all,  
I hate to disserpoint a beau  
When he is payin’ a call...”

He was getting dangerously close to Lotor’s group now, and that small part in his brain that should have been telling him to avoid it got silenced by the part that couldn’t back down from a challenge. If it was them, and he was sure of it now by the expressions they wore, then he could easily turn the tables and embarrass them back. For some reason, the fear he normally felt around Lotor had disappeared and he knew that that was probably a very bad thing, but he continued anyway. He slunk his way across to them, all sultry and sweet,

_“...I cain’t resist a Romeo  
In a sombrero and chaps...”_

He stood in front of Lotor and bent forward, putting a hand on his shoulder and if James, who was sitting on the sofa opposite, happened to get a faceful of Lance’s ass then that was purely unintentional and not his fault. What was purely intentional and entirely his fault was the part where Lance pushed his weight back and landed neatly on James’ thighs,

_“...Soon as I sit on their laps  
Something inside of me snaps...”_

He stood up quickly but smoothly to put some distance between him and them before the song was finished, singing as he went back to his spot by the piano,

_“I cain’t say no!”_

There was a loud round of applause as Lance finished and Keith found himself close enough to the table where Lance’s classmates sat to just catch what he thought was a derogatory remark between them. He counted his breaths in and out to calm himself like he’d been taught and he was now standing right by their table. He looked down at them coolly, eyes finally settling on the one with long, pin-straight, platinum-blonde hair, who seemed to be the leader.

“Is there a problem?” Keith asked politely.

“I’m not sure if I know what you mean,” he said, with the kind of smile that made Keith want to wipe it off his face.

“If you have a problem with the entertainment, may I suggest you find another venue?” Keith kept his tone polite and professional but with a firmness to let the other know how serious he was.

“Oh, no,” the one beside him laughed, “On the contrary, we are loving the entertainment!” And the group burst out into laughter again.

Lotor held a vicious grin on his lips, “Lance is our favourite entertainment!” Keith understood perfectly what the guy meant and he felt the anger swell in him. If there was one thing he detested more than anything it was a bully, and that’s exactly what this guy was.

“Perhaps you could show him a bit more appreciation and respect and quieten down, then? I think the other customers would appreciate that too.”

“Ha! Sounds like the switch hitter has an admirer,” said the girl on the opposite sofa, looking Keith up and down suggestively, making him seethe. He found it hard to keep the rising anger from his voice,

“I don’t see how that would be any of your business,” Keith answered trying hard not to grit his teeth, “and please refrain from using biphobic slurs or I’ll have to ask you to leave.” All four of them laughed at that,

“Lotor, who is this? Is he new?” The girl asked.

“It would appear so, and it seems like Acxa has done a poor job training him, seeing as he doesn’t seem to know who he’s talking to.” Keith gripped the tray he was holding tightly, he knew he had to walk away before he did or said something regrettable.

“Excuse me,” was all he could say without blowing a fuse before he turned and walked purposefully back to the bar.

Keith placed the dirty glasses from his tray into the crate for washing and went to join Luka and Flo who were both busy mixing drinks. He wanted to share with them what had just happened and he felt like they would have some answers. At the very least, he felt like Lotor and his companions’ behaviour should be noted. Not wishing to interrupt, he busied himself by washing up utensils and tidying up small odds and ends while he waited, trying to take his mind off wanting to punch something, or rather, someone.

He kept half a mind on what was happening in the room, but only just then noticed Lance’s absence. He saw Hunk was playing the piano, but like him, he was nervously glancing up from the keyboard, his eyes flicking between Lotor’s table and himself. Keith realised that Hunk must have been watching their exchange of words even if he’d been too far away to hear it. The next time he caught Hunk’s eye he looked desperately worried.

Keith mouthed, _“Where’s Lance?”_ And Hunk looked relieved for a moment before the worried expression returned and he subtly nodded in the direction of the bathrooms. Before Keith could look away, Hunk flashed his eyes towards Lotor’s table. Keith followed his line of sight and it finally sunk in what he was worried about; Lotor was missing from the table.

“Oh, shit.” Keith’s feet were moving before he even realised he’d made his way from behind the bar, his pulse quickening with every step he took. The door to the bathrooms was also the same one that led to the basement, there was a short corridor beyond it, linking them together.

Keith pushed the door and almost walked straight into Lotor who was standing in front of Lance, his hands bracketed either side of his head and leaning into him, but not in a friendly manner. Lance looked at Keith, his face flooded with a mix of shame and fear. It didn’t take Keith much to read the situation and instinctively he stepped in. He held Lotor’s eye for a moment, then calmly spoke,

“Hey, Lance, there’s a call for you on the phone in the break room, I think it’s important.” He looked deeply into Lance’s eyes but kept his expression neutral, trying to silently communicate his intention for him to take the opportunity to get out. Thankfully, Lance caught on, knowing that the break room didn’t have a phone. Lotor reluctantly released him and straightened up.

“Ah, how sweet, your prince has come to rescue you, princess!” Lotor mocked.

“He’s not my... Fuck you, Lotor!” Lance’s eyes widened the second the words left his mouth. He spun away from him and Keith caught the way the colour rose up his whole face as he quickly ducked past him to make his way back to the bar. He lifted his head on the way past as if to look at Keith, but his gaze stopped short.

Once Lance had gone, Keith stared hard at Lotor, “I think it’s about time you left, don’t you think?”

Lotor laughed at him and Keith breathed deeply, his fingernails digging into his palms.

“I know you’re new here,” he drawled, his amusement obvious, “but I think you’d better simmer down a bit, if you want to keep working here, Hmm?” He laughed again at Keith’s confused expression, “I’ll let you off this once, but just so you know, I don’t give second chances. Now, run along! Perhaps your little princess will bring you up to speed.” Keith held his ground for a moment or two, keeping his eyes fixed on Lotor’s before turning and walking away. It was the right thing to do, he knew it, it pained him, but instinct drove him yet again to keep his cool.

He was worried for Lance and could really do with some answers to a few important questions he felt entitled to. He wasn’t at the piano and a quick look around the room showed he wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Keith guessed he’d gone to the break room.

He hurriedly passed behind the bar, glancing apologetically to Flo and Luka, “Just gimme a minute,” he said, not waiting for an answer, “please?” He added, remembering his manners, before carrying on through the door to the back.

He found Lance pacing back and forth, wringing his hands together in an almost painful way. He lifted his head when Keith appeared in the doorway, but his eyes seemed to go through him, not really acknowledging he was there. He was mumbling to himself rapidly through his shortness of breath,

“Ooooh-mygod, I can’t believe I did that, I can’t believe I _said_ that! What the hell am I going to do now?! How am I going to -? What can - ”

“Lance!” Keith snapped at him, trying to break through his rambling, “Lance!” He said again, but louder when he didn’t respond the first time. Lance stopped pacing and leaned back on the kitchenette, he stared at Keith but still didn’t seem to realise he was there. Keith stood in front of him and held his shoulders, realising what was happening. “Lance, you’re having a panic attack, you need to slow everything down and focus, okay?” Lance looked up at him but didn’t respond, his breathing was short and fast, his cheeks puffing in and out.

Keith tried to think quickly for something for him to focus on, to distract him and ground him. He knew there was something you were supposed to do with people having panic attacks, counting things or some shit, but couldn’t remember the details and he needed to do something fast.

 _“One-two-three-four-five, six-seven, eight-nine-ten, eleven-twelve!”_ He sang, surprising himself and Lance, whose focus sharpened slightly, but he was still struggling to breathe. Seeing that it had made a bit of a difference he tried again,

 _“One-two-three-four-five, six-seven, eight-nine-ten, eleven-twelve!”_ Keith ducked his face in front of Lance’s to catch his eyes and bring them together. When he finally looked back at him he nodded to him like he should understand, Lance tilted his head in confusion,

“Wha...?” Lance gasped through ragged breaths, at least he was beginning to register what was happening now.

“Sesame Street!” Keith exclaimed as a means of explanation, “You know it?” Lance gave him a barely there nod, “Okay, sing it with me,” he slowed it down to give Lance more time to process,

_“One-two-three-four-five, six-seven, eight-nine-ten, eleven-twelve!”_

Lance watched Keith’s lips as he tried to match the sounds himself.

“Good, again,” Keith demanded,

 _“One-two-three-four-five, six-seven, eight-nine-ten, eleven-twelve!”_ Lance managed to breathe out the words this time, the tune ghosting over his lips which lifted briefly into a smile before the feeling of panic began to rise once more. He grabbed hold of Keith’s wrists to steady himself, feeling dizzy and the pain in his chest returned.

Keith saw him slipping back again and tried to think of something else, _counting... counting... numbers..._

 _“Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes,”_ the words left his mouth softly as he sang them, _“Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.”_ He saw the change in Lance’s eyes and the tension is his grip eased just a fraction and he knew it was working. _“Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes._.. now, you -” he spoke, but Lance was already quietly responding,

 _“How do you measure, measure a year?”_ Lance took a large breath of air when he reached the end of the line and shakily breathed it out again.

Keith smiled and nodded in approval, squeezing his shoulders and carrying on, _“In daylights? In sunsets?”_ He paused to let Lance take his turn,

 _“In midnights? In cups of coffee?”_ Lance’s panic lessened as he focused on the song, not taking his eyes from Keith’s lips that he couldn’t quite process were singing a song from ‘Rent’ but were also curved into a sweet smile, the steady weight of his hands on his shoulders keeping him together,

 _“In inches? In miles?”_ Keith sang, his voice was clear, strong and steady, which was remarkable, considering how quiet and intimate he was,

 _“In laughter, in strife?”_ Lance had found it easier to sing that next line, now that his breathing had levelled out. He managed to huff out a short, nervous laugh in response to the awkwardness that he was beginning to feel. He became aware of the warmth of Keith’s forearms under his hands, and the musky smell of his body spray made him realise just how close they were standing.

Keith could see he was coming out of it, but carried on, “Together,” he said, and Lance obeyed,

 _“In, five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?”_  
Their voices tapered off, and for a moment Lance was caught looking into Keith’s eyes and wondering how it was that they seemed to change colour each time he noticed them, but then Keith broke away, turning his head and obscuring his expression, he dropped his hands to his sides before nervously folding them across his chest.

“Are... are you feeling better?” Keith asked, but still keeping his face turned.

“Yeah... yeah, I am now... um, thanks.” Lance shakily crossed the room and sat on a chair. Keith opened a cupboard door, grabbed a mug and poured him a drink of water. Lance took it and had a sip, he hadn’t realised how dry his mouth and throat had become. An uncomfortable silence crept between them.

“Do you want to talk to me about what that was all about?” Keith asked carefully, not wishing to trigger another attack.

Lance closed his eyes and breathed in and out a few times, “Not really,” he said, quietly.

“Could you at least tell me who exactly this Lotor thinks he is, acting like he owns the place and threatening me with my job?”

“Oh, god, he didn’t, did he? I’m so sorry, Keith, I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in my mess.” He glanced up at him, took another sip and swallowed thickly, “Lotor is Acxa’s cousin, his father owns this place, so, yeah, he kinda lords it over everyone.” Keith absorbed this new information,

“But he doesn’t have any involvement with running Ebonies, right?” He asked, for clarification.

“Nope, but he’s just waiting for Acxa to put a foot wrong so he can take it from her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Keith muttered, Lance heard and laughed without mirth. Before they had a chance to discuss it any further, the door suddenly opened and a stressed Luka glared at both of them.

“Sorry to break you two up, but Keith, we really need you behind the bar, and Lance, I think Hunk might be holding auditions for your replacement if you don’t git your tail back up there with him!”

Lance sighed then stiffened, “Um, sorry Luka, my fault. Lotor was -” Luka cut him off,

“They’ve gone if that’s what you’re worried about. They left just after you came through here.” Lance visibly slumped with relief and Keith wondered what else was going on between him and Lotor for him to be so shaken up. “You okay?” She asked, noticing his behaviour for the first time,

“‘M okay, thanks.” Lance gave Luka a grateful and somewhat apologetic smile, then rose to follow her out the room. He paused and turned to Keith who was following behind him, he looked like he was going to say something and then changed his mind, “...Th - um, thanks... again.”  
  
“No problem,” Keith said and meant it, he paused before speaking again, “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a bully,” his face hardened as he said it.

“Keith, seriously, I appreciate what you did, but this isn’t your problem, you shouldn’t get involved.”

“I think he just made it mine, though,” Keith said, coldly. Lance shook his head in disapproval. Something about his tone worried him. He turned towards the door, pulling it open and holding it for Keith to take. Pausing, he turned back to him once again, meeting his eyes. There was one question he needed to ask,

“Rent?” He said, lifting an eyebrow, looking for an explanation. Keith looked flustered for a moment but instantly gathered himself and coolly answered,

“I told you I’d surprise you. Like I said, I’m full of surprises.”

“But you can _sing_ ,” Lance said before he could stop the complement escaping from him.

“Well, yeah?” Keith replied, unsure how to take what sounded like praise, “How else do you think I’m gonna kick your ass on Saturday?” He gave a smirk as it struck him that Lance had only heard him ‘sing’ Tequila and had no idea what he was up against. A sudden idea came to him, it was a bit of a dirty tactic, but Keith wasn’t ashamed. “Hey! You should come along to my gig at the Electric tomorrow night!”

Lance was on the back foot again, Keith’s shifting demeanour was disconcerting and he faltered, “Um, can’t, I’m, um, working tomorrow night.”

“That’s okay,” Keith answered brightly, “you’ll finish before we do, if you go straight there you should be able to catch the end. Ask Hunk too, I’ll get Pidge to put you both on the guest list.”

In light of all that had happened that evening, Lance felt it would have been incredibly rude to turn down Keith’s invitation, so he found himself weakly agreeing and promising to invite Hunk.

They both went back to work and Keith wondered how Lance was able to carry on like nothing at all had happened. In fact, he reckoned there was more spark there in his performance than had been before. He was beginning to see that Lance was going to be a tougher opponent than he'd originally figured.

He would have just one shot tomorrow night, one shot to make an impression on Lance that would make him question who was going to win the contest. He was going to need to ruffle him and there was a plan forming in his head as to exactly how he was going to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter’s songs-
> 
> Title - A Cover is not the Book - Mary Poppins Returns  
> Luck Be a Lady - Guys and Dolls  
> I Cain’t Say No - Oklahoma!  
> Pinball Number Count - Sesame Street  
> Seasons of Love - Rent
> 
> There will be a short intermission while I catch up on everyone else’s wonderful fics that I’ve been denying myself while I’ve had my head stuck in this chapter, then chapter 7 will be a go, and hopefully it writes itself faster than this one did!
> 
> Thanks once again to @letmebelex for beta-ing, listening to my gripes and character death-threats when they wander off script! 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, big, small or emoji ☺️


	7. You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance explains to Hunk What happened in Ebonies... and drops a bombshell.  
> Keith catches up with Shiro - Brogane exchanges.  
> Keith attempts to give Pidge a piece of his mind.  
> Keith finally gets to be himself on stage.  
> Nobody warned Lance.  
> Lance has... a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Back! Sorry that my short interval was longer than I usually anticipate, so thanks for sticking with me and anticipating this next chapter. Originally, when this was just supposed to be a fun story about a karaoke competition (hashtag), this was meant to be chapter three! but, hey, it grew arms and legs...
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions - each and every one is treasured! 
> 
> In other news, apparently this little ol' fic has been a great inspiration and has spawned not just one, but two more Klance karaoke fics that were generously gifted to me by @letmebelex who wrote "Say You'll be Mine..." and @Bang Bang Beef Keef who wrote "Country Karaoke Klance", both of which are amazing! Thank you!!! Also, there is now an official Klance Karaoke subcollection! (search for Klance_and_Karaoke) please feel free if you are inspired to add to it here
> 
> Once again, I'd like to acknowledge my friend and writing soundboard, da524, for helping me through each of these chapters and moaning at me each week that we're STILL not at karaoke night!  
> Next Chapter!! there will be karaoke!!

 

The lights from above strobed across Lance as his hands fidgeted incessantly with the clip on his backpack. He leaned his head against the window of the passenger door, which fogged up when he exhaled.

Hunk had his eyes on the road and his hands at ten to two on the wheel. Lance was grateful it was his friend’s turn to drive tonight, with the way he was feeling it might not have been safe. Hunk probably wouldn’t have let him anyhow.

After they had finished work for the night, they had quietly gathered their things and left the bar staff to their closing-up jobs. They called good night as they left, Lance avoided Keith.

Hunk, being the best friend anyone could ever hope for, left mentioning what had gone down until they were safely in the confines of their shared car. He patiently waited for Lance to say something, despite how keen he was to find out what had happened.

Lance needed the processing time, he needed it to straighten out all the jumbled-up thoughts that were suffocating him. Like Lotor, not so coincidentally turning up with James. Like them trying to knock him off his game with that song. _As if!_ He thought, huffing derisively to himself. But then he remembered countering it a bit too far, and, _fuck_ , why did he have to go and do _that_? He cursed himself for having no self-restraint, or self-respect it would seem when being challenged. He just had to go and kick the hornet’s nest and make his life harder. _Yeah, nice one, McClain._

And then there was Keith. Now _that_ was going to take a while to unpack. Like, how could he go from giving him cold glares, to… to… his brain faltered when he pictured the moment he had come out of his panic attack, those eyes could also be soft and warm. He’d seen it close up, very close up, and the difference was night and day.

But then there was another look, the ice-cold look of someone dangerous that he’d seen when he’d stared Lotor down. He had felt both grateful and annoyed when Keith had appeared. He wanted to hate him, wanted to hate that he’d been so calm whilst Lance had been a freaking mess, wanted to hate how he’d stood up to Lotor when all he could do was run, wanted to hate how freaking fine he looked in that uniform with his hair up and…

...“ _Lance, honey, he’s_ gay!”...

Luka's words played through his head. With a frustrated grunt, Lance harshly shoved his backpack off his knee and into the footwell, crossing his arms and slumping further into the seat. It made Hunk startle slightly at the sudden gesture, and he glanced sideways to judge his friend’s expression.

“You okay in there, Buddy?”

Lance groaned. “Yeah, I just hate my life.” Hunk chuckled and reached across to pat Lance’s thigh reassuringly.

"You wanna talk about what happened there tonight? ‘Cause I gotta say, I got really worried for a bit there, I mean, when I saw Lotor follow after you…" He trailed off, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, his next breath came out fast through his nose, "I'm sorry, man. I shoulda come after you, but if I'd stopped playing…"

“Hunk, no. Don’t you dare,” Lance warned, shooting him an angry look, “this isn’t your problem, and I don’t want you to make it one. It’s bad enough now that Keith’s-“ He cut himself off, pressing his lips together and looking back down at his lap, because, yes, of course, he’d had to get stupid Keith tangled up in his mess and now he was also in Lotor’s crosshairs.

“I think Lotor just made it my problem too.” Hunk said,

Lance let out a short exasperated huff, “That’s what Keith said…” He went quiet, realising that he’d unintentionally opened the can of worms that he knew Hunk had been waiting for. He closed his eyes, resigning himself to the fact he couldn’t very well avoid it.

“So, uh,” Hunk drew out the sound tentatively, “can I ask what happened? With Keith? I mean, I saw him having words at Lotor’s table after you sang that song and it didn’t look like they were having a friendly chat, from what I could see-“

Lance cut him off looking up in disbelief, “What? He... he had words with him? Before he…?” He stopped short because he’d be damned if his brain were about to use the word ‘rescue’.

“Yeah, I was keeping an eye on them to see their reaction and Keith was right by their table, I think Rolo shouted something and, well, Keith stepped in. I honestly thought Keith was gonna use the tray on his face,” Hunk said with a frown, “he looked really mad.” Lance didn’t need to imagine what that looked like.

So, okay, the thing between Keith and Lotor wasn’t entirely on him then, because if he’d spoken up against his group, Lotor would have marked his cards, regardless. But that didn’t stop Lance feeling like the catalyst.

“So, how’d he know, y’know, where I was and what was going on?”

Hunk thought for a moment, then shrugged, “I was hoping to get someone’s attention the second I saw Lotor follow you to the bathrooms, in the end, it was him that looked across at me and asked where you were. I nodded to where you had gone and tried to get him to see Lotor was gone too, and it obviously made some kinda sense, because, well, you shoulda seen how fast he moved.”

At the time, Lance hadn’t questioned the how or why Keith had appeared through that door, looking like he was expecting trouble. Perhaps Lance was coming to accept Keith just springing up out of nowhere.

There was a moment or two of silence, Hunk focused on negotiating a couple of intersections before picking the conversation back up. Lance felt it coming and braced himself.

“Okay, so, what happened after that? Because the next thing I saw was you making your way to the break room and Keith doing the same a minute later. Lotor went back to his table and they just finished up their drinks and left.”

Lance shifted in his seat, this was the part he was reluctant to talk about. But this was Hunk he was talking to, there was no room to bend the truth or try to feed him a different version of the events. Better to just spit it out.

“I had a panic attack.” The words hung in the air and Lance wondered if he had said them out loud, but then Hunk quietly flipped the signal and pulled over at the next available spot. Lance knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he felt a heat creep across his skin and couldn’t comfortably look him in the eye. He wished he hadn’t dumped his bag into the footwell, his fingers missed fidgeting with the clip.

Hunk killed the engine and turned in his seat to properly look at Lance. “Are you alright? What happened?” The compassion in his friend’s face was enough to make Lance’s heart hurt; How was he so lucky to have him as a best friend?

“I’m... alright, I’ve never… never felt anything like it,” The feeling of not being able to breathe properly and the overwhelming vulnerability of not being in control came back to him a little too clearly. The fear of not knowing what was happening and the fear of not knowing how to stop it. “I couldn’t stop it, Hunk, I couldn’t breathe properly and… it was... I was really scared.” Hunk placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder and took Lance's hand in his other.

“What exactly happened with Lotor?”

Lance could feel his gut contract as he recalled to himself those minutes before Keith appeared. He’d gone to cool off in the men’s room and if he’d thought Lotor was going to follow him he would’ve used the sink in the break room without a second thought, but as he’d made his way back to the main bar, Lotor was right there, coming from the opposite direction. He’d expected the usual verbal abuse, tried to just let it happen to get it over with, but once the formalities were over he’d leaned in closer and what he’d said to Lance had made his stomach drop, because this was an all-new level of torment, and with all the pressure that was building up on him lately, it felt like this was rock bottom. He would have, quite frankly, preferred it if Lotor had just beaten him up, at least it would have been over and done with, but the guy clearly got off on Psychological torture, he enjoyed watching Lance suffer.

Lance gave a dry laugh, “Well, I shouted ‘fuck you’ at him.” Hunk winced and Lance felt it. He took in a deep breath, sobering for the next part, “He’s also upped the ante… god knows how, but he’s found out about the karaoke competition... and he’s entered too.”

The look of shock that passed over Hunk’s face confirmed the news was as bad as what he’d thought. This wasn’t about his aptitude anymore this was about how long he could go before it all got too much and he gave up or fell apart, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up, he was already starting to crack, after all.

Hunk squeezed his shoulder, which pulled him out of his thoughts. “ _You,”_ he said with determination, “are going to win that contest _and_ get the lead, because _you_ are Lance McClain, and you are the best!” Lance pulled up a smile, at least to appease his friend.

“Well, there’s Keith to get past too,” he pointed out.

“Pfft! Tequila? _That’s_ your competition? I mean, he’s pretty an’all,” Lance baulked at that comment, but Hunk gave him a look and a shrug that he couldn’t argue with, “but I can’t see him being a threat.”

“Well, firstly, let me just repeat myself again, for the record, _he’s not my type,”_ Hunk tried to keep up a straight face, “and _second_ ,” he stressed, trying to get Hunk to take him seriously, “I found out tonight, he really can sing.” Hunk sat up at that, sensing more to the story was about to come.

“Go on,”

Lance exhaled in resignation, “He managed to talk me out of my panic attack, well, no, sing me out of it.” Hunk looked a bit puzzled. “He got me to sing along with him, to help me focus, or breathe, or both? I dunno, but it actually worked.” his mind wandered for a moment, returning to the feeling of Keith’s hands on his shoulders, then he blinked himself back into the car.

“What’d he sing?”

“The pinball song from Sesame Street?” Hunk laughed in surprise. “Okay, it really was that weird, but then he sang Seasons of Love? And, dammit, it was _good,_ Hunk!” Well, that got Hunk’s attention.

“Rent?”

“Yes!”

Hunk paused for thought to consider things. “Okay, here’s the plan. I think you need some sleep tonight, and Saturday? I’m booking you in for some Allura therapy before we go out. You are going to bring your A game and it won’t be you that needs to worry, it’s the others that do, because you’re Lance McClain, the one whose name is gonna be up in lights and one day they’re gonna tell their kids and their grandkids about the time they sang against _Lance McClain_ in a karaoke contest _,_ and of course they lost, because they knew they never stood a chance from the start.”

Lance didn’t know how to properly respond to that, so he squeezed the hand that was still holding his and he felt the reassuring squeeze of both of Hunk’s hands in return.

“Thanks, buddy.” He just managed to get out without choking up.

“Alright! Let’s get home and get you your beauty sleep.”

***

The burn in his abs was both welcome and unwelcome in equal measure. Shiro held Keith’s ankles tight as he finished up the last few reps of crunches that his brother was pushing him through, he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if he was working him harder than usual. The gym was unusually empty this morning so Shiro had offered to help him with his routine.

**[Call me darer, Call me diamonds  
Call me crass, Or call me cruel,]**

“You’ve been really quiet.” Shiro pointed out, as Keith finally rested his back to the floor and relaxed.

“Do I normally talk much when I’m working out?” He countered. He was quite content with just listening to his Brain Track, ticking away in the back of his thoughts, for once not being too obtrusive.

“You’re thinking really loudly, though.”

Keith exhaled upwards and let his arms fall to be fully out-stretched either side of him. “What do you want to know, Shiro?”

“Well... anything? How did it go last night?”

“I worked. There was music. I made cocktails. I came home.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh and shoved Keith’s knees to the side. “Why’ve you gotta be like this, Shorty?” He joked, “Did you have a good time? Did you make any new friends?” He teased in his best dad voice that he knew would wind him up. If Keith could be annoying, so could he.

**[Call me daddy, Call me baby  
Call me friend, Or call me fool,]**

Keith smoothly rolled onto his knees and pushed on Shiro’s shoulder as he stood, knocking him off balance and sending him to the floor before he had time to react. He looked down at him with a grin, holding out his hand for him to take, “You’re such an asshole.” Keith grumbled as he pulled him up to standing.

“You’re avoiding the question,” he pointed out while swiftly changing the grip on his hand, sweeping his leg around the back of Keith’s calf and sending him down to the mat. He almost had the one-up on him, but Keith’s instincts were fast and Shiro found himself with a foot in his stomach and being propelled over the top of his little brother before he could correct the tip in his balance and he landed with an ungracious “omph!”.

“Are you done?” Keith smirked.

Shiro propped himself up, resting back on his elbows, “You’re _still_ not answering my questions, so, no.”

Keith growled in frustration as he stood up again, ripping the Velcro at the back of his gloves and helped them off with his teeth. “The other girls seem nice, Hunk’s okay and I think I made an enemy.” He decided to omit the Lance parts from the whole night because he really wanted a break from thinking about him.

Shiro frowned with concern, “How and why?”

**[I don't want to be you  
You don't want to be me,]**

His dark hair fell across his face as he looked down and concentrated on matching up the straps on his gloves until they lined up perfectly. “Some guy who thinks he owns the place,” he mumbled, “him and his friends were making bigoted comments, and it seems I did the wrong thing by asking them nicely not to.”

Shiro sucked in a breath. He knew that was something Keith couldn’t ignore and it made him proud yet worried at the same time, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d made someone bleed for little more than a hint of a slur. “What did he say to you?”

 **[Call me vicious,** **Call me violent  
You can call me silent, You can call me lamb]**

Keith shook his head as he offered his hand to Shiro once more, this time giving him a look suggesting he’d make an idiot of himself if he tried anything again. Shiro took his hand and gave an appreciative smile at the ease that Keith pulled him up, despite the difference in their size. He waited for Keith to talk before wandering to the ledge where they’d left their water bottles to grab a drink.

“He didn’t say anything to me, well, not really,” being called a prince was hardly offensive, but in the context, it was used, it was definitely meant to be, “they were taking the piss outta Lance-I’m guessing Matt-“

“Yeah, Matt told me about him and Hunk working there.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “I should’ve guessed the Holt Gazette would make a front-page article,”

“Well, someone has to tell me what’s going on,” Shiro bit back, giving a little dig at Keith’s recent lack of communication. Keith side-stepped around it.

“His table was taking the piss outta Lance - sounds like he’s got some shitty thing going on with this guy at school - and then they started with the names; I wasn’t gonna stand for that. Next thing, the guy’s got Lance up against a wall and I interrupted them-“ Shiro’s look of apprehension made him stop, but Keith quickly set him straight, “I didn’t _do_ anything, Shiro, I’m not that stupid!”

“No, but you are impulsive.” Shiro justified.

“Okay, point taken, but it was my first night, gimme a bit of credit!” Shiro nodded for him to carry on, “I suggested it was time for them to leave and he threatened me with my job. It’s a bit complicated. Basically, I found out, he’s the son of the owner.”

“Oh, that’s... not good,” Shiro put simply, but sounding concerned, “and Lance?”

**[I don't want to be you  
You don't want to be me,]**

“Lance ended up having a panic attack in the break room.”

“Jesus, Keith! Have you ever realised your life is a border-line soap opera?” Keith glowered at him, it’s not like he actively sought out drama, but it sure looked like it had a habit of finding him.

“Oh, so now I’m responsible for other people’s shit?” He could feel the tension rising inside him and he was feeling tired of all the stress that had been surrounding him lately. He shoved his hands back in his gloves, angrily. “Look, can we just drop it? I’ve got enough going on right now myself without getting mixed up in stuff that’s not my business.” Shiro made a placating gesture with his hands and Keith kicked himself for letting slip more than he intended, but it looked like Shiro hadn’t noticed. It did make him think of something he’d been meaning to talk to him about, though. He turned towards the wall and picked up his bottle.

“So, Matt told me about the gym windows, did they catch anyone for it?”

Shiro took a drink and shook his head, “Nope. They were standing too far back for the cameras to see and no eyewitnesses, so there’s nothing.”

Keith took a few sips from his bottle, “That’s disappointing,” he said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. He put the bottle back on the ledge and turned towards the weights, Shiro did the same and followed. They stood side by side in silence, going through a series of routine stretches in preparation for the next lot of exercises.

“So, do we have a plan for Saturday night yet?” Shiro wasn’t sure how delicate he had to be around this subject.

“I’ve not made any. I’ll see Pidge later at the Electric and I’ll see what she says. I’m sure she’ll let Matt know whatever we’re doing.” 

“You know, you could let _me_ know. I’m beginning to think Matt knows more about you than I do right now.” Keith flinched at the lack of humour in what he said. Shiro turned to face him in a way Keith couldn’t ignore what he was saying, he was speaking quietly now, despite there being no one around to overhear, “Is everything… alright? I mean, after we had that talk about, you know, temptation and everything…”

Keith felt oddly relieved, his brow furrowed slightly in realisation, “To be honest, Shiro? I had so much else going on last night that it never even crossed my mind.” Shiro also looked relieved and smiled,

“And what about tomorrow night?” He hinted,

**[Call me up, Call me in the morning  
Sticking your thorn in, If that's what you need,]**

“If you see me with alcohol in my hand, you have my full permission to set Pidge on me.” He grinned.

“Done!” Shiro laughed. “Have you picked a song yet?”

“I've got a couple,” he tapped his temple, “but I haven’t decided for sure yet.”

“Just…” Shiro paused while he considered how to say what he was thinking, “remember to keep it clean, yeah?”

He didn’t reply, he only gave him a dark look and smirked.

 **[You can call me anything, baby**  
**It will not change me**  
**I'll still be me]**

***

 The Electric Mayhem - ex-picture house and now converted music venue - was a beautiful relic of a by-gone era. It sat apart from all its neighbours, boasting white columns that framed beautiful, yet overlooked stained glass windows in a classic Art Deco style; a long-forgotten monument to a time when architecture and art went hand-in-hand.

Keith banged a fist on the metal grill that covered one of the lower side windows before walking farther down to the door along the side of the building to wait. Pidge swung the door inwards and greeted him with a “‘S’up?”.

“Hey.” Keith returned. They walked in silence up the stairs and along a short hallway to a side room that Keith was familiar with. He flung his bag into the far corner of the sofa and landed haphazardly on the other side. He pulled out his phone and pretended to absently swipe through it, waiting for the right moment to give her a piece of his mind. Pidge hitched herself up onto the table that sat against the wall and swung her feet back and forth.

“ _Hey Pidge,”_ she said in a mock-Keith voice, “ _thanks for hooking me up with that totally awesome job, I don’t know what I’d have done without you! It’s great I now have an income and don’t need to stress anymore! -_ ah, no worries, Keith, it was my pleasure-“ she yelped and ducked to the side, dodging the book that Keith had grabbed from the pile on the stool beside him and launched at her head.

“No _stress?!_ ” He yelled, “‘The fuck, Pidge? You knew full well that asshole worked there and you never thought to mention it to me?”

Pidge put her hand on her hip and she planted her other elbow on her thigh, resting her chin on her balled fist whilst fixing Keith with a sly grin, “Would you have gone for the interview if I’d have mentioned it?” Keith was reluctantly silenced, because she was right, _dammit._ “And, if you hadn’t gone for the interview, would you still be in shit and avoiding getting a job?”

“I’m still in shit,” he pointed out, “but, you’re right, I guess… thanks?” Pidge straightened, ignoring the thanks and looking concerned,

“You’re still in trouble?” She asked. Keith let out a loud huff,

“It’s fine, nothing to worry about,” he smiled at her, trying to fake that he wasn’t that worried about it. He quickly changed the subject,

“So, have you got everything set up for tonight?” There was a brief look from her that suggested she was not done talking about it, but she’d let him off for now.

“Almost, I was just about to do a final test on one of the effects, if you wanna come-see?”

“Sure,” he said, getting up from the sofa and following her.

They walked around the warren of corridors until they reached the door that led out onto the dance floor, crossing the room until they came to another door on the opposite side from the stage. Ascending a short flight of stairs, they came out onto a small balcony, a board with an array of buttons, switches, sliders and lights that spanned its entire length sat in front of them.

“I’m saving the pyros ‘til later, but…” she killed the house lights, pressed a few buttons and flicked a few switches. The stage was suddenly bathed in purple light and everything shimmered like glittery starlight. Keith wasn’t sure how she had pulled it off, but it was like it was actually hanging in the air, a kind of 3D or holographic effect. Keith couldn't believe his eyes, it was fascinating. Pidge looked at him and laughed, “Cool, huh?” She nodded at him.

Keith guessed his expression must’ve been kind of funny, his jaw was unhinged, “Uh, yes? Pidge, it’s amazing! How do you do this stuff?” He asked incredulously,

“Hmm, magic?” She answered.

“I’m not gonna argue with that!” He grinned down at her, she really was some kind of technical wizard. “I’d better get ready too, I’ll get a head-start on the guys.”

Pidge laughed at him again, “If only your fans knew the effort it takes to make Keith Kogane the sexy god they worship!”

He blushed and looked down, “Yeah? Well, rule number one, I only do it for me.”

Pidge grinned affectionately at him, “You go be you.” 

***

A while later, Keith had finished getting ready and was now lounging back on the sofa in the common room, watching repeats of Friends on the small TV that was mounted to the wall in the corner. He always needed something to take his mind off his nerves before performing, and listening to music was just jarring. The rest of his bandmates were busy getting ready in the changing rooms, he could hear them through the wall, laughing, the excited buzz that came from them just before a gig was almost palpable.

Pidge lazily slunk into the room, seemingly unaffected by the charged atmosphere. She plopped herself down next to Keith on the sofa and snatched the remote before Keith could anticipate her move. He made a sound of objection, but she ignored it and began flipping through the channels.

“I just got a text from Hunk,” she said, still looking up at the screen. She heard Keith make a small noise, “I guess you forgot to tell me about inviting them here tonight, huh?”

“Shit, uh, yeah. Um, could you stick them on the guest list, please?”

Pidge kept her eyes trained on the screen, still channel-hopping, “Them?” She questioned, knowing full well who, but wanting Keith to say it. Keith sighed, knowing her game.

“Yes, _them_ ,” he replied,

“Oh, so, Hunk and…?”

“You know who.” He sulked down.

“If you want me to put them on the guest list I’m gonna need a name.” She said, pushing it.

Keith grunted like a teenager, “uggh! Lance, alright! Hunk and Lance!”

Pidge grinned a shit-eating grin and smacked him on the thigh with the remote, which stung, even through his leather pants. Keith moved like lightning and snatched to get the remote back from her hand, crushing the buttons as they momentarily fought for it until Keith won. “Hah!” He shouted in victory. It was Pidge’s turn to sulk into the cushions, but she couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that played across her lips.

She went to speak again but realised that Keith had gone still and was entirely focused on the TV that had accidentally landed on a news channel during their spat. There was a photo on the screen of a handsome man with dark skin, olive green eyes and tight curly tendrils of black hair falling over his short back and sides.

It was a candid picture, a coy smile playing on his lips as he looked up from a camera in his hands. A photograph lifted straight from his Facebook, Keith knew, because Keith had taken it.

 

_‘Babe, lemme get just one picture of you!’_

_‘You know I like to be the one taking the pictures,’_

_‘I hope you’re going to be playing with me as much as you have with that damn camera later…’_

_-Click._

 

Pidge caught partial words ticker-taping across the bottom of the screen - _College student - Arus University - intensive care - attempted murder -_

Pidge slipped the remote from Keith’s hand with no resistance and upped the volume,

_“- College student, Ryan Kincade, was taken to Arus hospital last night where he is being treated for what the police have only described as life-threatening injuries. Officials say they are treating it as attempted murder and are looking for two men in their twenties who were seen -“_

She looked up at Keith, already predicting some of what his reaction was about. “Um, Keith?” She broke his attention away from the TV, “Wasn’t that where you were studying? Arus University?’ Keith nodded and his eyes flicked up to the screen and back to her, this time she could see they were wide with fear and laden with tears. she watched as they silently spilled over, Keith neither blinking or moving, until she grabbed the pack of tissues from her hoodie pocket and pulled one out to dab his eyes.

“Damn allergies, huh?” She joked, lamely. Keith took a breath then, like he’d forgotten how to, and focused on the tissue in front of him. He took it from her with a slightly shaky hand and absently brought it up to catch the next few drops that had begun to fall. Sensing the need, but not particularly caring if she was crossing any boundaries, she tentatively shuffled up to his side and snuggled in, bringing her arm across his waist, he stiffened slightly, but he allowed it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked in a quiet mumble into his side. She felt him shrug. “I take it you know him?” She felt Keith nod, “Were you close?” She felt the nod again, this time a little stronger and she heard the ragged air going into his lungs from the ear she had pressed against him. “How close?” She ventured.

“We-“ he swallowed, thickly, “He’s my ex.” He whispered, confirming what Pidge had already guessed.

“Were you together long?”

He took a few steadying breaths, and answered a little more steadily, “About a year, we, uh, broke up around the time I moved back here.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry, that’s rough. Are you going to go see him?”

“No!” The exclamation made Pidge sit up again so she could read his face. She had expected to see something like distaste at the thought of going to see his ex, that would be the sort of thing to provoke a response like that, but instead, there was that same look of fear.

“Keith, did this guy… do something to you?”

He looked at her in confusion, before seeing things from her point of view,

“Oh! No. We just… um,” he thought for a moment, “just… bad... circumstances.” Was all he could say. Pidge nodded, seemingly happy with his answer.

“Shame, he’s a good-looking dude, reminds me of Erik Killmonger.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Who?” Asked Keith.

“Killmonger? Black Panther?” Keith’s expression was still blank. Pidge was slightly frustrated but actually happy that he was looking a bit more Keith-like now. “Jesus, Keith! The Marvel film was only out last year!”

Keith shook his head, “Nope, sorry, didn’t see it.” Pidge sighed, but let it go.

“Well, you’ll just need to take it from me that he literally has movie star looks.”

Keith unexpectedly laughed, “Believe it or not, that was his pick-up line the day we met. He was studying Film and media, he wanted to be a filmmaker and always had his camera wherever we went, he filmed everything. He said I belonged on the big screen, not the stage…” Keith caught himself before his emotions spiralled out of control all over again. "Speaking of the stage, I… should-“ he stood up abruptly and looked about for the time,

Pidge glanced up at the display in the corner of the TV, “You’ve got forty-five minutes, the support act is on in fifteen.”

"Yeah, okay, thanks."

Pidge took up the remote and turned the TV off. "I'll leave you to finish getting ready, I need to, too," she reminded him, "your eyes are fine by the way, it's a good job you use the good stuff." She smiled.

Keith absently lifted a hand to his cheek and smiled back, "Uh, Pidge? Thanks. Thanks for…" he hesitated, glancing back at the sofa, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt, "being a friend."

"No problem, now go do your… whatever it is you do, you've got a show to do. I'll see you back here after, okay?"

He still looked deeply concerned, "'Kay. See you after."

***

Lance could almost feel the heavy bass that was thumping through the doors as they approached the entrance of the Electric. He knew of the venue but had never been inside before, it really wasn’t his scene. He looked up at the people hanging about outside taking a smoke break; a multitude of coloured hair in a sea of black clothes. He didn’t disapprove or look down on them, it was just not something he could relate to, but at the end of the day, people are just people, he thought, all with the same hopes and ambitions, fears and anxieties.

The Connor Murphys and the Evan Hansens.

Hunk spoke to the doorman who checked his clipboard and gave them a nod before holding the door open for them to enter. A bored-looking girl gestured for them to hold out their hands and she stamped their upper wrists with a lightning bolt in blue ink.

“I’ll text Pidge and let her know we're here,” Hunk leaned into Lance’s ear so he could hear over the grinding guitar, the music was much louder now they were inside. Hunk felt his phone vibrate in reply and grabbed Lance by the shoulder to lead him through the throng of people to a door at the back of the hall. He spoke to a security guard in a hi-vis vest and gestured up, the guard nodded and opened the door.

Up until this point, Lance hadn’t looked at the stage, he may have been deliberately avoiding doing so. So far he had just heard the instruments: a steady bass; solid drum beats; a distorted guitar, all woven together by a melodic electronica sound from a keyboard. He knew where Keith stood on the stage without looking up. He could feel his presence there, it seemed to command the whole room. As they climbed the steps up towards Pidge’s lighting control platform Keith began to sing, a deep velveteen timbre that poured down Lance’s spine like a sticky syrup,-

“ _I wanna be on your mouth when you breathe out a moan,_

_Catch it on my tongue and_

_Swallow you down,_

_‘Til you’re deep inside,_

_Deep, deep inside_

_Me”_

Lance could feel his eyes grow wide, taken unexpectedly by the blatant sexual undertones of the words. He stepped up next to Pidge who was clearly in her element commanding her console like a puppet master. She glanced up and gave a wave when she saw her friends come into view next to her. They lifted their hands in response. From up here, they had a perfect view of the stage and the crowd that moved in time below them. Lance still couldn’t bring himself to look at Keith.

_“Hands on your skin,_

_Lickin’ up,_

_Going down,_

_Feel the burn on your wrists,_

_Push you to your knees,_

_Make you pray”_

Lance looked in every other direction than at that centre point on the stage. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but he had a sense that it was dangerous, and instinctively he repelled his attention away from there. The images of Keith from the night at the Balmera played in his mind. He saw Hunk beside him lift his hand in greeting to the stage and despite everything he’d just considered, he lifted his head and looked across to where Hunk had waved. Without thinking, he looked right at Keith, who was looking directly up at them.

Keith locked eyes with Lance. Lance, it would seem, had come into this whole night completely unprepared. No one had warned him.

Lance felt the skin on his face catch fire as he took in the sight of Keith. He was stripped bare to the waist with the exception of black leather straps that were wound around both his wrists, the tails of which hung loose and traced the movements of his hands. Leather pants that were slung so low it was impossible not to follow the tight, muscular lines that ran down from his perfectly toned stomach and smooth hip bones, to where they disappeared below the waistband. There was no avoiding the happy trail leading down or the bulge that was confined in the tight leather there either. His long legs finished up in the pair of black New Rock boots with red flames licking up the sides that he recognised from the week before.

Keith broke the eye contact with a smirk that Lance wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve. Hunk lifted his hand to Lance’s chin and helpfully pushed his jaw shut with a chuckle.

The rest of the band continued playing, while Keith walked off the stage to the side. The song came to an end, Pidge killed the lights and the audience erupted in shouts and cheers. Lance took a second to blink. Through the foggy darkness, he saw the other band members leave their instruments and disappear into the wings too.

Lance felt like he should be disappointed that he’d missed the show, but in actual fact, all he felt was overwhelming relief. A chant went up around them from the audience below.

_“Kral Ze-ra! Kral Ze-ra! Kral Ze-ra!”_

It lasted until they were near fever-pitch, then there was a twitch of the curtain backdrop and the crowd began to yell and whoop.

 _Shit. Encore._ Lance may have groaned out loud, but it wouldn’t have been heard over the noise anyhow. Why had he not thought of an encore?

Sure enough, Keith came bounding back onto the stage and the screams that followed were almost deafening. It kind of made Lance want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. The rest of the band followed and began picking up their instruments once more.

“You want some more?” Keith purred into his microphone.

The crowd erupted in cheers again.

“Alright!” Keith grinned, he flicked his eyes briefly up at Lance and there was that smirk again. Lance Inhaled slowly. This was Keith, but not the Keith he recognised. “This is one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite bands,” the crowd cheered again, despite not knowing what was coming.

The drummer began the fast-paced rhythm, playing on his own as an intro, the other members of the band readied themselves to join in. Pidge flicked a switch and the bright lights pointing at the stage were replaced by a vibrant bluish purple, black lights, revealing that the band were covered with neon paint that had previously been invisible. Each member was painted uniquely over their hands and faces, giving them a kind of disembodied effect. There was one exception. Keith.

When the lights switched, Keith’s whole torso was lit up with carefully drawn lines that swept across every indent between his muscles, making him look like some kind of futuristic Adonis. Lance gulped and couldn’t look away. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Pidge cackle.

The other musicians joined in, making a punchy pattern together, eliciting an aggressive yet catchy tune. The audience began jumping up and down in a synchronistic movement. Pidge, who was dressed in a lime green t-shirt and camouflage cargo board shorts, was also jumping in time to the music, but Lance was only vaguely aware of the movement. He was too busy watching Keith’s body, for, in that brief moment, Keith had grabbed a bottle of water from the side of the monitor in front of him. He uncapped it, took a swig then lifted it to his scalp where he upended it, letting the water cascade over his hair and down his neck. As it slid over his chest and abs, it mixed with the paints, making them highlight the flow of water as it slid down and vanished into his waistband. Keith chucked the remaining water in the bottle over the people crowded at the front of the stage, which they welcomed with enthusiasm. Keith laughed. Lance never saw it, he was still following the paint with his eyes.

Keith walked back to the mic stand curled his fingers around the grip with one hand,-

_“Ungh! What you talking about motherfucker?_

_I can see what you got_

_You know I'm gonna control the situation_

_It’s just another way for me to play god…”_

He took the mic from the stand and rushed to the left-hand side of the stage. With his other hand flat to his chest, he slid it slowly down through the paint as he leaned forward with a secession of body rolls, his spine and stomach flexing in time with one another.

_“I don't understand what you got inside yo body baby but it makes me want to Jack-jack-jack-jack-jack,_

_Jack you up!”_

As the chorus played, he wrapped his free hand around his middle and with his head turned sharply to the side, his hair obscuring his face, he rolled his hips in time with the beat. _“Jack you up!”_

Lance followed his movements as he ran to the other corner of the stage, he continued to give those on that side the same treatment he’d given to the others while singing, pushing the palm of his hand through the paint and smearing it across his stomach, but then - _holy shit! -_ Lance felt the air leave him across his lips. Keith’s wet, paint-smeared hand slipped further down behind the button and zipper and he threw his head back, the bob of his Adam's apple prominent against the tight, pale flesh.

_“This is a heart attack waiting to happen_

_Love me hard till I break inside_

_For all the people I got something you can suck on_

_and it's big and long and dangerous to put inside your mouth..."_

He glanced up at Lance again with that smirk.

_"I'll watch you die a thousand times motherfucker_

_I'll watch you ‘ungh’ when you get on top..."_

Lance felt his own throat bob and, in an embarrassing, teenage-like display of lack of control, he felt a flood of heat to his groin and things started to become uncomfortable. _Oh, no! Fu-fuck! No-no-no! Not here! not now! Not… Keith._

_“I don't understand what you got inside yo body baby but it makes me want to Jack-jack-jack-jack-jack,_

_Jack you up!”_

Keith removed his hand from its confines and skip-jumped to the centre of the stage again, the energy just exploding out of him. He gracefully tipped his height forward and landed on his hands. He dropped his hips to the floor and Lance’s eyes widened as he sang, and at the same time he held himself up on his free hand and easily dipped himself up and down in one-handed push-ups, dragging out the action with his lower half as he went. Lance felt the heat rise, even more, when Keith looked up and deliberately looked him in the eye as he carried on.

“ _Wow! let's go!_

_And don't you come back no more unless you want to get some of this,”_

Keith kept the eye contact going as he turned onto his back with only his shoulders and feet touching the ground, this time pushing up his hips rhythmically. Lance subtly moved forward until he was squished in a small space between where the console finished and the wall began. From there he was able to lean on the edge of the balcony, it looked awkward as hell, but he needed to screen the stupid reaction his body was betraying him with right now, Pidge wouldn’t let him live it down if she noticed.

Then Keith’s hand slipped through the paint again, and as he dipped it below his waistband once more, he slowly closed his eyes.

Lance forced himself to blink, not realising how dry his eyes had suddenly become. He was in such a trance that he only noticed the song had come to a stop when the crowd below gave a sudden collective yell, followed by a cacophony of whistles, cheers, screams and claps.

Pidge switched the lights back and in an instant, the paint vanished from sight, like it had been a figment of his imagination. The bulge in Keith’s pants was not a figment of his imagination. Keith stood in front of the mic stand and carefully gave a bow, again, the whole time staring up at Lance like he was the only one he’d been giving a performance to.

The idea stuck to Lance’s thoughts like flypaper.

Keith and the rest of the band disappeared into the wings, the house lights came up in that universal signal that the night had come to an end, the audience quieted down to a loud hum of chatter as people began to file out towards the exits. The sound of plastic cups crunching under heavy boots was loud and intrusive.

“Kitty Rose has left the stage!” Pidge said as she began shutting things down and winding up cables. Hunk turned and leaned his back on the edge of the console.

“Wow! That was something else, huh?” He said with an enormous smile. Was Lance the only one to feel… well, _things,_ after that? Was he some kind of sheltered prude that couldn't watch something like that without _reacting?_ Like, _physically_ reacting? Jesus, he needed to do some self-evaluation. He continued to lean his elbows on the edge of the balcony and spoke over his shoulder so he could keep his body turned away for as long as possible. He didn't like the look Pidge kept throwing him. He knew she couldn’t see, but not much got past her, if anything at all. She hadn’t even had to say or do anything and he felt busted.

“Well, I mean, it was okaaay,” Lance waved his hand around, nonchalantly, “but Pidge’s special effects were where it was at. I mean, without that… “ he stopped talking abruptly, as the still half-naked Keith appeared around the door, his damp hair sticking to his neck and face. He was wiping down his upper body with a wet towel in an altogether unnecessary display... _Touché,_ Lance thought.

“Carry on, Lance. Don’t let me interrupt you.” Keith said

Lance squirmed at being caught out and turned back to face the stage. “No, no, It’s fine, I was done.”

Pidge tilted her chin at Lance, “Hey, Lance, could you give me a hand to pack these cables into those crates?” She asked, a gleam of something mischievous in her expression. Lance panicked and spluttered, still not ready to peel himself away from the safety of the small wall.

“Wha...? Eh, what… why? Those are…” his eyes nervously flicked between the three of them on the balcony, trying to think of a way out, “Can’t! I… might... hurt myself and ruin my chances at the auditions, you don’t want that to happen to me now, do you Pidgy? Do you?”

Pidge cackled, Keith looked confused at his absurd excuse, but Hunk, being Hunk, just accepted his friend’s concerns and offered to do it for him. Lance felt a wave of relief and gratitude, and made a note to buy him an extra drink tomorrow night, even if he didn’t know what it was for.

Lance just wished Keith would go away and stop being so... which was the wrong time to think about _Keith’s_ problem, that obviously _wasn’t_ a problem for Keith, and he stopped his eyes from trailing down his body just in time by facing away again abruptly.

Keith was trying to figure out what Lance’s strange behaviour was about. “Dude, you know the show’s done now, right?” he asked, looking at the way Lance was still standing leaning on the balcony, he knew his face was burning up, yet again.

“Umm, yeah, haha-haha!” He said, nervously, “ I was… just trying to figure out Pidge’s special effects!” He waved a hand at the lighting rigging that hung in front of them, trying to sound casual, “I figured if I stared at them long enough, I might be able to understand all her genius!” _What the fuck are you saying?!_ He managed to stop himself.

“Right,” said Keith, not entirely convinced, “I’m gonna finish getting cleaned up, I just thought I’d come up and say hi, and thanks for coming. See you tomorrow at the Balmera, I guess?” Lance, using up all his concentration on blocking out Keith, belatedly realised he was talking to him, he risked turning round to face him once more, deliberately keeping his eyes high, where he knew roughly where Keith’s face would be,

“Sure, bring it…” He was about to say ‘mullet’, but the word stopped when he caught Keith’s eyes travelling up his legs, and Lance, for the first time, acknowledged the perhaps provocative way he was leaning, almost totally bent over, with his ass sticking out towards Keith. He honestly didn’t know if he felt proud of himself for the way Keith was checking him out, or even more ashamed at the circumstances that had led him to be in that position in the first place.

Keith’s eyes never made it as far as his face, he turned quickly and made his way rapidly down the steps, “I will!” He called behind him. Pidge shook her head and laughed.

Hey, Hunk? Can you start loading these boxes into the van for me?” She asked.

“Sure, no problem.” Hunk said, stacking the nearest two and hoisting them up, before making his way downstairs too. A moment later Pidge picked up a couple of her own and started for the door,

“That should give you enough time to charm that snake back in the basket.” She swept her eyes downward then back up, cackling as she left him standing, looking like he was about to catch fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song credits as follows-
> 
> Title - You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile - Annie  
> Keith's Brain Track - Creature by Bones  
> Untitled Kral Zera song - original Lyrics by me  
> Kral Zera encore - Jack You Up by Mindless Self Indulgence
> 
> As always, comments are welcomed or just HMU with some emojis! you'll find updates and Brain Tracks for my writing and all things Klance on my Tumblr blog @crazyrandomhappenklance which is a side blog to my general fandom blog, @miles-from-home. 
> 
> See you all back here for chapter 8 :)


	8. Cause it's an Effed Up World, and It's a Two-player Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the rollercoaster of emotions he went through in the last few hours, Keith isn't ready to go home after his gig, so he has his first sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay! I know I said in the last chapter's notes that this chapter would, finally, have karaoke in it, but poor Keith just couldn't simply go home to rest after all that! 
> 
> Thanks

The door of the changing room clicked shut at his back, and Keith finally felt everything crashing down on him. 

The adrenalin high he’d been riding left him like a rushing wave, and he collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands and angrily contorting his face to stop the slip of tears. He refused to shed any more, he was done with it. Done, _so_ done with all that shit.

All he wanted was to move on and put it all behind him, yet it looked like even after all this time nothing he’d done had made a difference. He met his reflection in the mirror to his side; he may have changed his appearance, but underneath the makeup - the mask - he was still the same person, whoever that was.

Mixed feelings made his skin itch and he wanted to scrub it all away. He felt trapped and scared. The image of Ryan’s face had brought conflicting emotions rising from the pit of his stomach. 

He fumbled in his bag until he found his phone and automatically slid his finger across the screen in his familiar pattern to unlock it. There were no new messages, which brought a small wave of relief that he needed. His chest hurt and he let go of the air he’d been holding in his lungs far too long. 

But now he felt very alone. He didn’t want to be alone. He pulled the charcoal t-shirt from his bag and peeled it on over his skin, which was still sticky with the mix of dried-up paint and sweat. A short huff of humour escaped him as he recalled Lance’s awed expression and he allowed himself to smile a little at that. At least _something_ had gone right tonight. 

The barely-there smile left his face because now he was struck with a sudden thought. What if he’d taken it too far? What if… what if Lance had seen it as a come-on? 

Shit. 

But, nah, because, thinking about it, Lance had been kinda standoffish in Pidge’s lighting booth and he'd sounded like he was about to say something unfavourable about him. He’d not even bothered turning around to speak to him. If Lance was open to offers he would've at least turned around to speak to him. When he thought about it some more, all he could remember was the distracting sight of Lance’s stupidly long legs and… 

_Nope! Not going there!_

Stupid Lance.

He tap-tapped his finger on the side of the phone as he tried to decide what to do.

Home didn’t feel like a good option. Shiro would inevitably read him like a book and know that something was up. Then there would be questions. He couldn’t deal with that tonight, especially as Matt was staying over again, and two was much worse than one. But that gave him an idea. 

He stood, slipped on his leather jacket, and pocketed his phone before slinging his bag over his shoulder. He headed through the corridors to the back door, where Pidge was just finishing loading up her van. 

He felt stupidly nervous asking her, considering they were now officially friends and he'd broken down in front of her just a few hours before. She turned and looked at him, her expression open.

He couldn't quite meet her eye, his hands dug into the lining of his pockets. "Do you…" he paused, not sure how to ask without sounding imposing, but Pidge saved him the bother. 

"D’you wanna crash over tonight?" She made it sound like it was her idea and Keith was relieved.

"That would…” he gave her a smile of gratitude, “Sure. Thanks, Pidge." He said, yet again, rubbing at the strands of wet hair that clung to the back of his neck which were rapidly turning cold.

Pidge walked to the driver’s door and nodded her head to the passenger side, “Jump in.” 

***

**[Take the highway to the end of the night...]**

The journey back to Matt and Pidge’s apartment was quiet, Pidge put the radio on to fill the silence, and Keith relaxed a little as he leaned his head against the window and watched the fog from his breath get bigger, then shrink again in a rhythm upon the glass.

For all the years that Shiro had been seeing Matt, Keith had never had occasion to visit where he lived. Keith followed Pidge up the stairs to their door after she had parked the van nearby, and stacked Keith’s arms with the equipment she wouldn’t risk leaving in there overnight.  

**[...Take a journey to the bright midnight...]**

Pidge threw her keys on a side table as they walked in, then kicked off her sneakers. She pointed to a recess in the hallway and told Keith to dump the boxes there for the time being. 

“Now, wait right there,” she said. With a finger in the air, she disappeared into a room and came back a moment later with a couple of towels and a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Good job his stuff fits you.” she smiled, then she pointed at a door at the end of the corridor, “Now go rid yourself of all that paint and pheromones.” She instructed, wrinkling her nose for effect and shooing him towards the bathroom with her hand as she walked towards what Keith could see was the kitchen from through the open door. 

He nodded and took himself off in the direction of a well-anticipated shower. “Use whatever bottles you want, I don’t care, Matt won’t care,” Pidge called behind her.

“Okay.”  He called back, as he shut the door. 

 

Keith padded through to the kitchen about twenty minutes later to find Pidge hunched over a large-spined book at the table. She looked up and smiled at Keith as he came into the room, which made him feel less vulnerable - like the shower had washed away all his defences, feeling exposed without his makeup. It felt strange because Pidge had seen him (although not really known him) before he’d changed, but something inside him made him anxious until he’d seen her expression, and he felt a little foolish for thinking that Pidge would either judge him or think of him differently. 

Once again he reminded himself that Pidge was possibly the most astute person he’d ever met, and probably knew him, the real him, better than he knew himself. 

He went to take up a chair at the table, but as soon as he began to sit Pidge was up on her feet. “‘Aa-ah! Don’t get comfy! Here, this is yours- ” she handed him a mug with what looked like hot chocolate in it, he went to speak, but was cut off before his lips parted, “don’t worry, It’s dairy-free,” she assured him, “now, I’m guessing you’re not quite ready to call it a day yet,”  he walked behind her as she gestured for him to follow her through the apartment to the living room as she talked, “so I was thinking, either Netflix, or Tekken?”

She put her mug down on the coffee table and threw herself into the corner of the large sofa, which absorbed her easily into its massive cushions. Keith noticed she’d made it up with a sheet and a stack of blankets. He put his mug down on the table too, eyeing a plate piled high with toast that Pidge must’ve made and brought through earlier. He took up the opposite corner, although he settled a little more carefully than Pidge had done.

“Tekken?” he answered as a suggestion. The idea of indulging in some roundhousing without causing actual harm seemed kind of cathartic. 

Pidge got up to sort the TV and console out and tossed Keith a white controller, picking up a black one for herself. As she settled back on the sofa, waiting for everything to be ready, she looked at Keith trying to gauge where his head was at. 

“How are you feeling now?” she probed carefully. 

Keith had been reaching for his drink and paused for a moment at the question.

“I’m okay,” he said, recognising that lie again, but ignoring it. 

“Seriously, I’m going to repeat the question. Try again. How are you feeling?”

Keith looked down at the drink in his hands to avoid her eye contact, “You’re not gonna let me not talk about this, are you?” he asked quietly.

“I respect you, Keith, and I’m not gonna make you talk about anything you don’t want to, but I get the feeling that you need to, and it does no good keeping these things in. I’m gonna throw in a guess that you’ve not spoken to Shiro about any of this, and if you haven't spoken to him, then I’m gonna guess that you’ve not spoken to anyone?” 

Keith rolled his eyes a little petulantly and huffed as he reluctantly shook his head. 

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on in that thundercloud of a head? I’m not here to judge, you know that, right?” 

He put his mug back down on the coffee table, now half-finished, and thought for a moment about what he was prepared to tell her. He took in a breath to start.

"...I really wasn't expecting to get into a relationship back then," he began, quietly talking down at his controller, he paused a moment to put his thoughts in order, "so Ryan kinda came out of nowhere. I didn't pay much attention to anyone else there and just kept myself to myself," Pidge huffed a laugh at that, "I wasn't always a total loner!" he quipped. Whatever he was going to say next stuck in on his tongue, "But like you said before, I guess I never made any real friends, and I suppose when I met Ryan it felt like things were... different." 

Pidge saw Keith get lost in thought, she kept quiet and still, not wanting to interrupt whatever process he was going through in his head to work out his emotions. She was also taking in this previously unseen side to Keith. 

She saw his expression change and his thoughts coming back to the present. "He was fun and cool and... although he was kinda quiet, he was always so popular, always… just there, where everything was happening.

"We started seeing each other and all of a sudden I was there too. It was fun. I'd never hung out with the cool kids, and for the first time I had friends I didn't need to hide, people I didn't need to watch my back around," he let out a short mirthless huff, "so I thought." 

Pidge wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself at this point, 

"It ended up being just one party after another. It was amazing at first, I was living a life I never thought I'd have and I got kinda swept up in it; began to care a little less about myself and a bit too much about what everybody else thought. Of course, drinking helped a lot with all that, and before I knew it, I’d fallen into a trap of not being able to do any of it without drinking, and then there was just this expectation… I didn’t see the harm until it was too late.

"Ryan encouraged me out of my shell, made me feel like a good person, and I stupidly fell for all the attention." His face hardened, "I'd never been popular before, and I let it go to my head. Everything I'd known before that had got me into trouble, and being with those guys? I thought I was a million miles away from that-" Keith cut himself off. 

"So, Ryan was a dick?" Pidge concluded, in her usual abrupt manner. 

He wrestled for the right answer, "On the whole? Not really. I guess I just saw us as more than what he thought we were." Keith brought his legs up and tucked his chin onto his knees, resting the side of his head on the back of the sofa cushions so he could look at Pidge. Something was making him feel more relaxed and able to look at her now. 

“I thought it was, you know, deep. But I think I was just carried away with the whole thing. It was new, and I was in love with the idea that someone cared for me, that people wanted to be around me. 

“I let my guard down and trusted them all too easily. It turns out there’s more honour among thieves.”

A silence grew between them while Keith packed his emotions away again and turned his concentration towards flicking through the faces on the screen until he found his usual character of choice, Hwoarang, and selected him. Barely looking, Pidge flicked through the choices and pressed the selection button instinctively when it came to rest on Ling Xiaoyu.

“Hey, Keith? Just so you know, you’re not a bad person.” He gave a short incredulous laugh at that, and Pidge rolled her eyes at him. He shook his head, frustration building up inside of him.

“No, seriously, I’m not as good as you think I am, you don’t know the half of what I’ve done.”

“Keith, I’m not going to judge you on things you’ve done in your past-”

Keith felt a flash of anger, “But it’s not just my past, Pidge!” he snapped, “It’s right now, too! I can’t change who I am! God knows I’ve tried, but even when my ex-boyfriend’s probably fighting for his life, I’m not even crying for him, I’m crying for me _!_   _That_ makes me a bad person.” He threw the controller to the side and felt his whole body tense, finally facing what he’d been tucking away into the back of his mind since he’d seen the news. _“Fuck!”_ The word left his mouth through his clenched teeth, a quiet explosion of pent up anger and frustration toward himself.

Pidge had gone still beside him, she looked hurt. Great, now he’d shouted at Pidge and he felt even worse. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he apologised quietly, “I didn’t mean to yell, I just-” 

“Okay, apology accepted.” 

Keith looked at her. Pidge shrugged and offered an extended fist. Somehow, the innocuous gesture made him feel less tense. He tapped his own to hers, wondering how she just kept on accepting him over and over again, even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it. 

“Pidge, I’m just saying, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things that I can’t forgive myself for, so I’m struggling to find it hard to believe that anyone else is able to do it before I can.” 

“‘Kay,” she said rationally, “I get that, but you’re gonna have to find some way of coming to terms with whatever you’ve done, or it’s gonna eat you up, it’s already starting to consume you.

“I saw who you were before you started this reinventing yourself thing, although I didn’t really know you then. I think you need to start there. Start by working out who you really are and who you really want to be. Shedding the past will be a lot easier if you do.” 

Keith sat silent after that, a little taken aback at how much of what she’d said had made sense. He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. 

"I'm pretty sure your debt problem fits somewhere in all of this," she rolled her hand at the wrist in a vague gesture, "but I know you're not going to tell me any of that - _yet-,_ " she emphasised, "but when you do, I'll be here for you." And just like that, the conversation was done.

Pidge flung herself sideways and pressed her back to the side of Keith’s arm, whether he liked it or not, and stretched her legs along the sofa. It felt odd, he was telling himself that he shouldn’t like it, but it actually felt soothing and somehow comfortable, so he didn’t object. She dug his remote out from underneath herself and handed it over to him. 

They played without saying anything, with the exception of Pidge’s sailor mouth punctuating her moves. Keith zoned out and forgot about his worries of the day as he gradually gave up any kind of playing technique and relented to button-smashing against Pidge’s superior, calculated combo moves. 

Eventually, Keith conceded defeat to Pidge and his exhaustion, so they called it a night. He tidied away the controllers and switched everything off while Pidge made some more hot chocolate. They reconvened on the sofa to have their drinks, winding down. Pidge clinked her mug gently off the side of Keith’s and sarcastically called, “Rock and roll!” Keith chuckled at that. Yeah, she had a point. 

He imagined the other guys in the band would have gone on to some bar until the wee small hours, but Keith had managed to make excuses to duck out of drinking with them. He didn’t spend time with them outside of rehearsals and gigs anyway, but up until last weekend, he would have welcomed the excuse to seek oblivion after the week he’d had. 

**[...Realms of bliss, realms of light,**

**Some are born to sweet delight...]**

Pidge was back in her corner of the sofa again, looking through her phone and occasionally smiling while typing what he assumed were messages. She snort-laughed at one point and looked up at him. 

“Do you know what you’re singing for the competition tonight?” She asked casually. Keith was a bit thrown at first, but then it sunk in that it was well after midnight and indeed Saturday. It felt like it was a long time coming, yet the deadline on Sunday - tomorrow, he reminded himself - was approaching all too fast. 

“Y’know, I think I do, but I’m playing those cards close to my chest, for now,” he smirked knowingly at her. 

She looked at him with mock offence and went back to her tapping. The abruptness of the question made him suspicious.

“Who are you messaging?” He asked, matching Pidge’s casual tone. As if he needed to ask anyhow.

“Hunk.”

Keith picked up his phone and pretended to scroll through something interesting.

**[End of the night, end of the night]**

“Oh? So… did they enjoy the gig?” He asked, trying to keep his voice disinterested, but politely curious.

“Yeah, Hunk loves any kind of live music, really. You broke Lance.” The last bit she threw in so casually that Keith almost missed it, but when it finally sunk in he lost his cool exterior and a smile broke across his face that threatened to leave his muscles sore in the morning. 

Pidge cocked her head to the side, studying Keith’s reaction, “Wait a sec, there’s something wrong with your face,” Keith grabbed the cushion at his hip and threw it at her, but his smile didn’t fade. She deflected the cushion with her forearm and started again, “No! Wait! I mean, I knew you were up to something because you invited him, and I assumed a hookup or something-“ she deflected another cushion, giggling, “but that’s an evil-scheming grin if I ever saw one, I’m just trying to… oh-oh,” she paused and looked at him with over-played sympathy, having figured it out, “You thought you could intimidate Lance before the karaoke contest…” she shook her head in regret, Keith’s blush giving him away, “Keith, my man, you pushed the wrong button there. That’s the exact opposite of how Lance works.” She stood and grabbed a blanket, flapping it open as she went, “If you try and beat Lance down he’ll come back twice as strong.” She laughed at the expression on Keith’s face, his smile had fallen away, 

“Well, the good news is, regardless of how this competition thing plays out,” she said with a devious grin, “at least he’ll be sucking your dick by the end of next week.” She threw the blanket over his head then booked it out of the room. 

 

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, heh! She's such a gremlin! (but also a really good friend.)
> 
> Title - Two-Player Game - Be More Chill  
> Keith's Brain Track was End of the Night, by The Doors.
> 
> Again, sorry this isn't the anticipated chapter, but I felt these issues needed to be addressed, and you can never have too much platonic Keith and Pidge!  
> I wrote this at the start of the summer holidays, and I'd intended to publish it with the next chapter, however, the holidays got in the way and I ended up writing a couple of one-shots. The first was a piece for Lance's birthday, called "When I Get Home" (be warned, it's E rated) and a little ficlet I wrote from a prompt, called "Scars" (T rated) - go check them out!
> 
> Chapter 9 is being written at the moment, (YAY!) but I think the lack of an update on this fic has been holding me back. (Thanks, Lex, you are always so wise!) 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading! I don't know who you all are, but let it be known, you fill this person with joy because you are here! xx


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